The Live Wire

NOW HIRING: Professional Monster Handler (Intimate Specialization)

AKA MOONS 250 FOLLOWER SPECIAL!! READER X MONSTER JJK!

Not every monster that stirs in the night wants to hurt you. Some of them just want you and need someone brave enough to stay.

Are you brave, flexible, and exceptionally good with your hands? Do you thrive under pressure - sometimes literally? Can you keep your composure when your client has claws, fangs, a tail, maybe all three? Do you look at a creature twice your size and think challenge accepted?

The Guild is looking for qualified Soothers to fill the following open contracts The work is intimate, dangerous, and the pay is good. The work is very hands on.

Nine new job postings. Nine monsters. Nine long nights. One professional built for the work.

SUGURU GETO: A naga in the mountains hasn’t been able to pass his eggs in TWO YEARS and needs someone patient enough to help him through it. He’s gentle, he’s gorgeous, he’s mortified by the whole thing.

TOJI FUSHIGURO: A feral werewolf in a rut has been terrorizing the eastern woods. Every hunter they’ve sent comes back a hot flustered mess. He doesn’t need to be caught, he needs YOU to wear him out. 

SHOKO IEIRI: The forest’s healer hasn’t had someone take care of her in centuries. Her vines are overgrown, her patience is thin, and she could use someone with a good green thumb and an affinity for horny honey.

KENTO NANAMI: An overworked incubus from the Demon Bureau has been skipping meals because he thinks feeding is unprofessional. It’s you and him on a strict two-hour appointment.

RYOMEN SUKUNA: The local oni is in a bad BAD heat and the village would really like to sleep through the night. He has four arms, he’ll be using all of them if you’re lucky!

CHOSO: Something ancient is under the old shrine and now the nearby villagers keep falling in love with strangers. Maybe you can find love older than time with this tentacled terror? 

HIROMI HIGURUMA: Locals have been complaining about a forlorn angel that’s taken up outside of the old courthouse and its pent up divine energy keeps damaging the town! They need you to teach him how to feel real good again.

YUKI TSUKUMO: A Phoenix mid-rebirth cycle has been burning so hot she’s been causing heat waves. She can’t handle the heat alone, and needs someone to help her reach the climax…of her flames! Marathon lovers needed for this hottie!

SATORU GOJO: A dragon god, the local land deity of the region, has stopped answering his prayers, and now he’s hogging up the hot springs! Now it’s time for you to answer his hot and bothered prayers!

Compensation: Generous. Hazard pay: Included. Repeat clients: Likely.

A Soother's Guide to Taming Monsters — now in progress.

TAGLIST: @cactusvolumes , @oporotheca

V (comment to be added, no minors or ageless blogs!!) V

if you want tags for a specific character let me know!

tags. fluff. angst kinda? frat!jo is secretly downbad. vaping. college au. hehe.

part one (not necessary to read)

you hate frat boys.

this is one thing that you are absolutely sure of as you make your way through a sea of smelly, sweaty bodies, all dry humping each other to distasteful club music in some rotten frat house. you should've known that coming to a party was a bad idea. your friend suggested it since it'd be good to help you get your mind off things with your ex, but obviously, it's only soured your mood even more after some white-haired frat guy tried to pull a fast one on you.

you finally find an exit leading to the back porch, which is thankfully unoccupied. the couch outside reeks of beer, but at least there's fresh air. you plop down, sighing deeply.

it's stupid to cry over a boy. stupid to cry over someone who breaks up with you over text at 2 am. stupid to fall in love in the first place.

aw crap. but here you are, crying. how pitiful. still, you let the tears fall. it's not like anyone's going to pay attention to some sobbing girl in the backyard. your friend is probably shoving her tongue throat-deep into some guy right now. no one at this stupid party would spare you a second glance, let alone spend their time on a porch doing nothing.

or so, you thought.

because the door slides open, and lo' and behold, white-haired frat dude steps out with a cherry-scented vape in hand. he looks at you and blinks slowly.

you wonder how pathetic you look to him, eyes watery and red, nose clogged as tears stream down your face.

"uh...you cryin'?" he asks.

track twenty-two: new perspective | prev track< | setlist

three rockstars! one you!

synopsis: your best friend has always been an asshole - whether it's in his band or in his bed. him ditching you? nothing new. but when one bedroom door closes, another one opens

pairings: rockstar!Suguru Geto x f!Reader x childhood fwb!Sukuna (+ rockstar!gojo!!)

content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, beach episode!!, reader has been going through it guys she deserves a break, drinking, anxiety, tension, dealing with trauma of a leaked sex tape, more sukuna angst lol, complicated relationships and emotions, men trying to win reader back over, soft and sweet gojo, some fun beach fluff, they're getting wasted lol, kissing, drunk hooking up, 69, oral sex (m! + f! receiving), spit as lube, anal sex

a/n: art by @aransmind !!

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Don't think so," you lied through your teeth, faking a smile as you slid your sunglasses back down to the bridge of your nose.

The hope that maybe you'd be able to make it a day without thinking about why you were running away from your real life starting to crack in your chest as you dragged your suitcase across the lobby of some ridiculously expensive resort.

Satoru had booked you a beach vacation a plane ride away. In a different country filled with different people who hopefully would have no clue who you were.

But no, even here, the past was doing its damnedest to catch up to you.

You'd gotten a few stares on the flight, strangers whispering when you passed by, unable to convince yourself you were just being paranoid when you swore you heard a camera shutter at the airport before you took off.

All it really did was confirm that you couldn't go back to your old life of anonymity.

It was strange though, you always thought it would be Sukuna you gave it up for. That if you were going to surrender your privacy for someone, it would be for him.

You never thought it would be stolen from you.

Ripped away without ever giving you a real chance to fight for it.

Now you just had to figure out where to go from here.

Gojo x Reader “Bittersweet”

Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.

Warnings: Emotional tension, jealousy, angst, and unresolved feelings between ex-lovers. Includes crying, vulnerability, heartbreak, and intimate but non-explicit moments.

Part 8

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Y/n’s POV

2 weeks later

“All that effort Y/N put into being the ideal student… yet she still wasn’t enough to keep Gojo interested.”

“The school’s golden girl went from Gojo Satoru’s ‘forever’ to just another face in the hallway. Life comes at you fast.”

I scroll.

And scroll.

And scroll.

My face is everywhere on the school’s anonymous page. Different captions, same coward energy.

A laugh—dry, annoyed—comes from beside me.

“Fucking losers can’t even say it to your face,” Yuki mutters, peeling open a bag of chips during our sleepover like she wants to murder someone with every crunch.

“Mm.”

That’s all I can manage. My thumbs feel cold on the phone screen.

Shoko lies across the foot of the bed, blowing smoke toward the open window. “Ignore them. Half the school just waited for the breakup so they’d have a chance with Gojo. They’re not celebrating your downfall; they’re celebrating their delusions.”

I know she’s trying. I know they all are.

Still… it stings.

Because the hate posts did stop after the breakup—well after I got with Choso it stopped.

For a while.

Until the new girl arrived—some Calvin Klein model exchange student with cheekbones sharp enough to kill a man. And somehow she and Satoru were already being whispered about. Rumors, photos, sightings at the courtyard fountain.

Perfect.

“Satoru’s an easy manwhore, babe. Honestly? Just forget him,” Mei says, sprawled on the beanbag like she’s posing for a magazine. “Or better—have fun. Make him regret it.”

“Please,” Shoko deadpans. “Didn’t you literally bet with Suguru on whether Y/N would spiral or not?”

Mei shrugs. “It’s called entertainment.”

Their bickering fades as they both look at me.

My quiet.

My expression that doesn’t crack even when my chest feels like someone stuffed snow inside it.

I was the golden student.

Top 1.

Perfect grades, perfect reputation, perfect everything.

Except not perfect enough for the boy who promised me forever behind the gym in eighth grade.

I take a breath.

If they want a show, fine.

But I’m not going to burn.

I’m going to enjoy.

I hold my phone tighter and unlock it again—this time not to doomscroll, but to scroll through my contacts.

They all freeze when they hear the ringtone start.

“Y/N?” Shoko says slowly. “Who are you calling?”

I ignore her.

Then:

“Hello?”

A male voice.

Deep. Familiar.

The kind that always makes Satoru’s jaw clench.

My lips curl into the first real smile I’ve had in days.

“Hey,” I say, lowering my voice just slightly.

“You free tonight?”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

The Limitless Club.

Gojo Satoru’s little playground. His VIP playground, his pride, his ego on display every Friday and Saturday night. And yes, I used to be his—at least in theory. Tonight, I’m still in the VIP, still watching, still remembering, but I’m not in his lap anymore.

“You’re bold… inviting me to your ex’s club,” Sukuna murmured, his lips brushing against my ear as I perched between his legs at the bar counter. Arms locked around my sides, he leaned closer, and I could feel the heat of him against me.

I let a slow smirk curve my lips. “Oh, please. You’re just as egoistic as he is. Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying having Satoru’s ex in your arms.”

I stared at him, daring, teasing, and a little dangerous. The crowd around us moved in waves, oblivious, but I knew he could see me.

And that’s the point.

I let my fingers trace over the line of his jaw, tilting my head just enough so our lips met. Soft at first, deliberate, just enough to get a reaction. Sukuna chuckled against me, a deep, amused sound, and I leaned into it, letting the kiss linger while my mind ran through every thought I shouldn’t be thinking.

Funny… I always thought I’d never enjoy this kind of attention after him. But right now? Right now, I could almost forget that Gojo ever existed. Almost.

A stolen moment, a corner of the club away from prying eyes. Sukuna’s lips on mine, hands tracing curves and edges I hadn’t stopped thinking about. I completely let go—forgot the crowd, forgot the chaos, forgot him.

Until, of course, I didn’t.

The cheers hit me first—loud, raucous, unignorable.

“Let’s party!”

The crowd went wild, and I froze, heart hammering.

Of course, there’s my ex.

I pulled back slightly, wiping my lips, trying to act casual. Sukuna chuckled beside me, voice low, teasing.

“Regretting now?”

I slapped his chest, laughing, a little tipsy from the drinks and the thrill. “Me? You want to make out on the stage next?”

He just grinned, the smirk turning wicked as he leaned closer. I hadn’t realized how… substantial he was. Not just tattoos and looks. This—this was a whole different kind of danger.

“I’ll go freshen up…then maybe we could have some fun in your car,” I whispered, breath warm against his ear.

His eyes darkened with mischief, a smirk tugging at his lips. I hadn’t noticed the eyes already on us, the faint shift of attention from the crowd. My heart raced—not from him, not entirely—but from knowing, he’s watching.

I should move on. I know I should. Yet here I am, in Gojo’s playground, letting someone else stir up the chaos my ex could only dream of controlling.

“Move on, Y/N,” I muttered under my breath.

The restroom was quieter—still humming with bass, but muffled enough that my head finally stopped spinning. I stumbled a bit, fixing my lip gloss, steadying myself against the counter.

I didn’t even notice someone walking in until she stopped right beside me.

“You must be the ex.”

The voice was sweet—soft, almost bored—but the edge was unmistakable.

I glanced at the mirror. And there she was. The model. Calvin Klein golden girl. Satoru’s new girlfriend.

Great.

I wasn’t insecure—not even close. But jealous? Of course. You’d have to be blind not to be.

Would I ever scream or throw a drink at his new girl? No. I’m not twelve.

“And you must be the girlfriend.”

I gave her a polite smile—no shade, no venom, nothing. I have beef with Satoru, not her. And unlike the girls from before, she hadn’t done a thing to me.

She scoffed. “Don’t act like that.”

I turned to her, brows lifting. “Like what?”

“Like you’re innocent.” She faced me fully now, eyes narrowed. “I know you’ve been trying to get with him again. He’s my boyfriend now—”

I couldn’t help it—I actually laughed. “Okay, Miss Calm Down. Yes, I might’ve made a questionable decision coming to his club, but this is basically a school hangout. His other exes are literally out there too. Relax.”

“I don’t care!” she snapped, voice sharp enough to cut. A few girls near the sinks exchanged glances before slipping out, sensing incoming drama.

“I don’t want you here specifically,” she continued, stepping closer. “You’re a whore—just like everyone says. And you won’t stand a chance of crawling back to him. Not while I’m here.”

She stormed out, heels clicking like the punctuation of her final insult.

I stood there, stunned for a full second.

“…Wow,” I murmured.

I’d tried being nice. I really did. But apparently that wasn’t going to cut it tonight.

“Fuck this,” I said, letting the alcohol and the heat in my chest take the wheel.

If she wanted a problem—fine. Maybe I’d give her one.

Walking straight out of the restroom

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

Suguru’s voice cut through the hallway as I pushed past him. His brows were pulled together, confused, almost concerned, but I didn’t stop. Didn’t look. Didn’t breathe.

Not right now.

I brushed him off with a shoulder, jaw tight, the anger in my chest pulsing like a drum. I didn’t owe him an explanation. I didn’t owe anyone one.

I only had one person in my head.

Sukuna.

And I found him exactly where I knew he’d be—leaning against the railing near the VIP stairs, tattoos peeking under the club lights, looking like trouble wrapped in smug confidence.

He grinned the moment he saw me. “You took your time, princess.”

He pushed himself up, grabbing his jacket like he was ready to leave with me.

“Let’s dance.”

His smile faltered. “I thought we were heading out—”

“Not anymore.”

I grabbed his wrist and pulled him straight into the sea of bodies under the purple strobes.

The floor was hot, packed, pulsing with bass. People cheering, drinks sloshing, sweat in the air — pure chaos. My kind of distraction.

And I made damn sure Sukuna had no room to think.

I pressed my back into him, body sliding against his as the beat dropped. His hands instantly found my hips, pulling me closer, deeper, shamelessly. A growl of satisfaction rumbled from his chest.

We moved in sync —grinding, turning, losing ourselves in the music and each other. The lights flashed across his tattoos, my hair, our silhouettes blending like something we shouldn’t be doing but absolutely were.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he muttered against my ear, lips brushing my skin.

“You’re so damn feisty tonight… you sure you wanna keep this a ‘for fun only’ thing? I could treat you better.”

I tilted my head, smirking. “Falling for me already?”

He chuckled, low and rough, and I reached for a random shot someone handed off behind me. I downed it in one go, not caring what it was.

The alcohol burned down my throat, warm, dizzying — good.

I wanted to drown everything out.

I turned, ready to grind back into Sukuna, ready to forget, ready to ruin myself—

But then my gaze slammed into him.

Satoru.

Standing at the entrance of the VIP balcony.

Not smiling.

Not laughing.

Not teasing.

Just staring.

Those damn blue eyes locked on me like a hand around my throat, yanking me sober in an instant. Like my whole body remembered him before my brain could tell it not to.

My stomach twisted, a sharp drop, cold and humiliating.

Of course.

Of course he’d see me now.

“Yo.” Sukuna’s hand tightened around my waist, pulling me back into reality. “What’s wrong?”

I didn’t answer.

Because Satoru Gojo wasn’t looking away.

And I hated—hated—how my heart reacted before I could.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

I hate it.

I hate that the hands on my hips aren’t his.

I hate that the chest pressed against my back isn’t the one I memorized.

But God, I loved the way Satoru was staring — jaw tight, blue eyes burning straight through the crowd as I moved my hips to the beat, grinding even harder against Sukuna, who looked like he’d just been handed front-row seats to chaos.

“Keep doing that,” Sukuna murmured against my ear, voice dripping with dark amusement, “and I’m dragging you out of here.”

I laughed — reckless, drunk, uncaring — and pulled him down into a full, messy kiss. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer, devouring every second.

And that’s when it happened.

A hand — cold, firm, furious — yanked me back so hard the air left my lungs.

“What the—?”

Before I could blink, Satoru’s fist connected with Sukuna’s jaw.

A loud crack.

Gasps.

Music choking out into silence.

“Satoru!” I shrieked.

The crowd didn’t dance anymore — they circled, phones out, cheering like idiots as the two most volatile men in the room swung at each other.

This wasn’t Satoru’s style.

He taunted. He joked. He mocked.

But outright fighting?

Not unless he snapped.

And apparently, he snapped.

“STOP IT!” I pushed through bodies, dizzy, vision swimming as I tried to find Suguru — anyone who could help before this turned into a police report.

Instead, I heard a high-pitched gasp beside me.

Great.

The girlfriend.

She grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward her, eyes blazing.

“This is YOUR fault! Why are you literally everywhere?!” she screamed, shoving me hard.

I stumbled, dizzy and enraged.

“Don’t touch me,” I warned, pushing her back, but my balance was slipping — she was sober and furious; I was drunk and hanging on by a thread.

“I’m so sick of hearing your name!” she yelled, shoving me again. “Y/N this, Y/N that—”

No one noticed us.

Everyone was too busy recording Gojo and Sukuna tearing into each other like wild animals.

My head spun. My vision blurred.

Shit. I was actually about to pass out.

She shoved me a final time — too hard — and my knees buckled.

The floor rushed up to meet me, cold and sharp.

I groaned, hand trembling, head pounding so loud I could barely hear—

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

Satoru’s voice. Furious. Unhinged.

Then:

“Get the fuck away from her. You don’t lay a HAND on her.”

My eyes fluttered as footsteps pounded toward me.

“Y/N!” Suguru’s voice finally broke through the noise, closer, panicked.

Good.

He was here.

Now I could finally…

finally…

…slip under and stop fighting the darkness creeping in.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

My head throbbed first.

A slow, pulsing pain that reminded me I’d drunk far more than my body could handle. I rubbed my eyes, half-asleep, wishing I could just slip back under and pretend the night never happened.

It was still dark.

Still night.

Still wrong.

I tried to let myself drift again—until I heard it.

A quiet, broken sniff.

A soft, trembling whimper.

I froze.

That wasn’t mine.

“Mhm…” I groaned, pushing myself onto my elbows, blinking away the blur. I was lying across the backseat of a car—someone’s jacket thrown over me. And up front…

White hair.

Shoulders shaking.

“Satoru?” I croaked.

The sniffing stopped instantly.

He turned just slightly—just enough for me to see his face through the dim streetlight sneaking through the window.

Tears.

Actual tears rolling down his cheeks.

My stomach dropped.

“W-why…?” The question fell out of my mouth before I could think. I tried to sit up fully, but everything spun. Still, I stared at him—at this. Satoru didn’t cry like this. Not quietly. Not shaking. Not like the world was ending.

“Hey… hey, what’s wrong?” I whispered, dread filling my lungs. He didn’t answer, just hunched over the wheel, hands trembling.

“Satoru?”

No response.

“Tor—”

The old nickname slipped out without permission.

His head snapped up.

Those blue eyes—usually bright, cocky, annoyingly confident—were swollen, red, filled with something rawer than I’d ever seen.

“Y/N…” His voice cracked, barely a sound. “It hurts.”

My heart clenched so sharply I forgot to breathe.

“What does? What hurts?” My voice shook. A hundred fears raced through my mind—his fight with Sukuna, injuries he was hiding, something bleeding, something broken.

“Did Sukuna—?”

“Yes.”

He swallowed hard, knuckles white around the wheel.

“It hurts. Too much.”

Panic surged up my throat. “Then—why are we in a car?! We need to get you to a hospital, Satoru—”

He shook his head violently, breath hitching.

“No. Not that. Not him. I mean—”

His voice shattered.

“Everything.”

I froze.

“I really didn’t want that date,” he whispered, words trembling like he was ripping them out of his chest. “I fought with my parents for weeks. I told them no. Over and over. But they kept pushing because—because of you. Because they said you were ruining my future. They said if I didn’t start ‘moving on’ they’d—”

He broke off, wiping his tears with the back of his sleeve, failing miserably.

“And after we broke up, I just—”

He choked, breath trembling.

“I couldn’t take it. I thought… if you got jealous… if you saw me with someone else… you’d come back—”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“You didn’t. You looked at me like I didn’t matter anymore.”

I had no idea what to say.

Every word he threw at me hit like a punch.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he whispered. “But watching you walk around like you were fine—like you could live without me—”

His voice dropped, quiet, defeated.

“—it killed me.”

“Satoru,” I whispered, finally finding air.

He didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

“I can’t—I can’t live like this. I can’t pretend we’re strangers. I can’t watch you dance with someone else. Kiss someone else. I—”

He let out a small, broken laugh.

“God, I sound pathetic.”

He finally turned fully toward me.

Tears streamed down.

His chest rose and fell too fast.

He looked shattered.

“I love you,” he whispered. “So much it fucking hurts. I hate that we’ve come to this. I hate every second we’re not together. I hate waking up without you. I hate that you think I don’t care.”

He swallowed thickly, voice barely audible.

“Please… take me back.”

The desperation in his eyes—

the fear—

the ache—

hit me harder than any punch Sukuna landed.

“I—” My throat closed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

But he leaned closer, breath trembling against my cheek, voice small and terrified.

“Please, Y/N,” he whispered.

“I don’t know how to live without you.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Present

“Satoru!”

“Y/n!”

“Yuji!”

Voices crashed into the darkness like distant waves — frantic, relieved, alive. The rescue team.

Finally.

“We’re found!! Right here!” Yuji yelled, his voice cracking with exhaustion.

“Here!” I called out too, even though my voice trembled. Maybe from the cold.

Maybe from something else entirely.

Beside me, Satoru stayed unusually, eerily quiet. His breaths were shallow, every inhale trembling slightly. I swallowed the lump rising in my throat — the same one that came every single time my brain replayed our memories despite my constant command to stop.

Footsteps, then—

“Satoru! Oh dear, are you okay?”

Utahime rushed to his side, her voice sharp with worry. She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, her hands fluttering, inspecting him for injuries.

A pang bloomed in my chest — jealousy, stupid and uninvited — and I forced myself to look away.

“Y/n! Are you okay?”

Choso.

Gentle, steady, always showing up exactly when someone needed him. He draped a blanket over me, his cold hands surprisingly reassuring as he checked for bruises.

“I’m okay,” I sighed softly, giving him the faintest smile. “Don’t worry. Worry about your brother.”

He cupped my cheeks with both hands, eyes softening the way night lights soften an empty street.

“Thank you… for being with my brother,” he whispered.

I opened my mouth to respond — but my gaze was pulled, unwillingly, irreversibly, toward a pair of blue eyes.

Satoru’s.

My ex.

The man I left.

The man who still looked at me like I had hung the galaxies he was doomed to orbit.

And that should’ve been the end of it.

Closure. Done. Clean.

But the way he looked at me now…

Like hope and heartbreak were waging a war in his chest…

It made something inside me stutter painfully.

Suddenly—

A soft press on my forehead.

My breath halted.

“Choso?” I whispered, blinking.

His face flushed immediately. “I—I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m so happy you’re okay.”

His hand slid down to caress my cheek, thumb brushing tenderly.

I smiled at him — because he deserved that. Because moving forward with someone like him would be safe, painless, warm.

A new chapter.

Right in front of me.

Uncomplicated. Steady. Real.

But even as I tried to lean into that thought, I felt it —

a stare like a hand around my ribcage.

Satoru.

His eyes were burning holes into Choso’s hand still cupping my face.

Blue, shattered, desperate.

A storm with my name carved into the lightning.

And the question struck me so hard I almost hated myself for it:

Why couldn’t it just be him again?

Why couldn’t my heart choose the easy path?

Why couldn’t he have been the one who stayed?

Why couldn’t the universe have made us less fragile, less broken, less doomed?

Why did his eyes still make something deep inside me ache so violently —

like no matter how much distance I put between us,

I would always feel him?

Why…

Gojo x Reader “Bittersweet”

Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.

Warning: this story contains themes of heartbreak, jealousy, emotional manipulation, alcohol use, and minimal sexual scenes

Part 7

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Author’s POV

“Fuck, stop smoking, Shoko! I’m dying here!”

“Fuck no,” Shoko snapped, completely unbothered, her cigarette smoke curling around them like a wall.

The car was thick with tension. Y/N sat stiffly, heart hammering, trying to steady her breath. Shoko and Mei were beside her, both silent, watching. Earlier, Mei had spilled the truth: Gojo was on a date. Y/N hadn’t believed it at first—she even shoved twenty thousand yen at Mei, demanding honesty. But now, parked at the lot, staring at Satoru, the evidence was undeniable.

Her chest felt tight, every inhale sharp and shallow. Her stomach churned, twisting as her eyes caught him opening the car door.

And there she was—the girl holding flowers. Flowers. then Y/n compared and remembered Satoru’s ritual, the little weekly roses meant for Y/N, had suddenly stopped.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Shoko muttered under her breath, but Y/N barely heard it.

Everything inside her froze. There were no tears, yet her chest ached with a suffocating weight, memories of him flooding every nerve. Her Satoru—her childhood friend, her first love, the boy who had always been hers—was standing there with someone else.

“Are you… okay, dear?” Mei’s gentle voice cut through the tension.

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, hollow and brittle, as the reality sank in. Her hands twitched slightly on her lap, powerless to stop the wave of hurt and disbelief. She wanted to look away, to deny what she saw, but her eyes were glued to him, seeing the life they had together now somehow slipping through her fingers.

Everything they’d shared—the quiet mornings, the teasing smiles, the warmth of their closeness—felt distant, frozen behind a wall she couldn’t reach.

And just like that, the world felt impossibly cold.

At the school courtyard, skipping classes had always been a thrill, a rebellion—but today, it felt like the weight of every misstep had landed squarely on her shoulders.

“How could you let that happen?!” Y/N’s voice cracked, fierce and trembling, the anger and hurt a storm she couldn’t contain.

“I—I said it! I didn’t want it either! I had no choice, okay!? So will you just stop being insecure and move on already?!” Satoru shot back, his words sharp, but his eyes flickering with something else—a careful watch over her expression.

Y/N’s breath hitched. The sting of his words dug deeper than she expected, and he noticed. That small falter on her face didn’t go unseen.

“W-wait, I’m sor—” he began, voice breaking, the words caught halfway between apology and pleading.

“Fuck… you, were over.” she cut him off, flat and cold, as if the weight of their past didn’t matter.

“What?! No!” he shouted, disbelief and frustration fueling his words, heart pounding like it could burst out of his chest.

And in that moment, Y/N realized something about herself—back then, as a teen, she had fire in her veins, a fearlessness she rarely allowed herself now. That raw, unfiltered anger, that unwillingness to let him or anyone walk over her, would set the tone for the wild, chaotic seven months that followed—a time that would define her, heartbreak and all.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Whispers chased her the moment she stepped into the hallway.

“Oh, the famous Y/N finally got dumped.”

“Right? Guess Gojo finally realized he could do better.”

Every word felt like gravel under her shoes. Y/N kept her head down, walking beside Suguru, who looked half-dead from his hangover and completely lost.

“What the hell’s going on?” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Y/N didn’t answer. She didn’t need to — the laughter echoing around them spoke loud enough.

“He probably got tired of her.”

“Heard she even did his homework just to keep him around.”

“Pathetic.”

Her hands clenched around her books. One more word—just one—and she’d snap.

“Cheap girl.”

That was it. Her head shot up, eyes locking on the group of girls lounging by the lockers, smirking like they owned the world.

Y/N opened her mouth, but another voice cut in first.

“Isn’t your mom an escort?” Mei Mei’s voice sliced through the noise like a whip. The hallway went silent for a beat.

Y/N’s POV

I forced a laugh, sharp and humorless, trying to mask the heat rising in my chest. The kind of laugh that said don’t mess with me—but my hands were trembling.

Then, I saw him.

Satoru Gojo, strolling down the hallway like he owned it — his uniform slightly undone, sunglasses perched in his hair, and a dark hickey blooming across his neck.

Perfect.

Suguru blinked in confusion. “Seriously, what’s going on? Did I miss a memo?”

“Oh, you’ll figure it out, Sugu,” I said, voice low and cold. My gaze didn’t leave Gojo. “Just… give it a minute.”

He looked at me then — just for a second — like he wanted to say something. But he didn’t. He walked right past.

And that hurt more than I wanted to admit.

“Y/N,” Yuki’s voice snapped me back. She was leaning against a doorway, arms crossed, watching me. “There’s a party tonight at my place. Might be good to let off some steam.”

I gave her a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Yeah. Sounds like exactly what I need.”

But in my head, I already had a plan — and it wasn’t just about the party.

It was about reminding Satoru Gojo exactly who he let go.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Yuki’s party was the quieter version of Gojo’s.

If Satoru’s parties were all smoke, sweat, and bad decisions, Yuki’s were the opposite—still chaos, but the kind you could breathe in. Less sex, more conversation.

Almost ten drinks in, I was slouched against the counter, glass half-empty, brain running on fumes. My friends were gone—either too drunk to stand or too busy making out in corners. And Satoru… yeah, he wasn’t here. He had his own crowd. His own party. His own new girl.

I stared at the amber liquid swirling in my cup, but it wasn’t whiskey I was tasting—it was memory. Us. Him. All of it.

God, how did it all end so fast?

At least I wasn’t alone for long.

“Too many drinks for someone so small, don’t you think?”

The voice came low, smooth—like the bassline of a slow song.

I turned and almost choked on my own breath.

Choso Kamo

Older. Mysterious. The kind of senior who didn’t talk much but made everyone look twice when he did. He leaned against the counter beside me, black hair falling slightly into his eyes.

“‘m fine,” I slurred, smirking despite myself. “You can take care of me, right?”

His lips curved—not quite a smile, more like a dare. “How sure are you that I’ll take care of you?”

The air between us changed. His tone was playful, but the way his gaze dropped—slowly, deliberately—wasn’t. My thighs pressed together on instinct.

And he noticed.

His eyes flicked back up to mine, and I swear I forgot how to breathe.

“I…” I swallowed, feeling the burn of alcohol and something else entirely. “I trust you. You can take care of me in any way you want.”

My tongue darted out to wet my lips without thinking, and his gaze followed that too. The corner of his mouth twitched, half amusement, half interest.

And that’s how it happened — in some random bedroom I hoped no one would walk into.

The door clicked shut behind us, and the noise of Yuki’s party faded into a distant hum. My head was spinning, half from the alcohol, half from the way Choso’s gaze pinned me there.

I stumbled back a little, laughing softly. “Oops.”

He caught me with one hand around my waist — steady, warm.

“You’re drunk,” he said quietly, amusement tugging at his voice.

“Mm, maybe,” I mumbled, looking up at him through heavy lids. “You gonna scold me for it?”

“Not my style,” he said. His eyes lingered on mine a moment too long.

The space between us disappeared without either of us deciding it. His breath brushed my cheek, carrying the faint scent of smoke and sweetness. I could feel my heart thudding in my throat.

“You’re trouble, Y/N,” he murmured.

“Good thing you like trouble,” I replied, words slurring into a laugh.

He smiled — slow, restrained — the kind that made him look impossibly calm while everything inside me was spinning. His hand slid up to my jaw, thumb tracing the corner of my lips like he was memorizing it.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he asked softly.

“Not really,” I whispered. “But I want to.”

For a moment, the air between us trembled — full of things unsaid. And then he leaned in, close enough for the world to blur, his voice barely a breath against my ear.

“Then don’t think,” he said.

The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed or rough — just deep, lingering, and certain. The kind that made the room disappear. My hands found their way to his shoulders, and everything else — the noise, the ache, the memories of someone else — slipped away.

When he finally pulled back, our foreheads stayed pressed together, breaths tangled.

“You always talk this much when you’re drunk?” he asked, eyes glinting.

“Only when I’m with people who actually listen,” I said, and he smiled — that small, knowing smile that could undo anyone if they stared too long.

He leaned closer, so close that the space between us disappeared, his voice brushing against my ear.

“Then keep talking, Y/N.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“HOLY SHIT, you slept with Kamo?!”

“Shhh!” I hissed, nearly tripping over the doorway as Yuki’s voice echoed through the hall. My head pounded. My heart, worse.

It was 8 a.m., sunlight spilling through the curtains, and I’d just snuck out of some random bedroom — wearing mostly his clothes. Choso was still asleep, peaceful in that maddeningly quiet way, and I wasn’t about to stick around to explain it.

“Y/N, this is— oh my god,” Yuki whisper-yelled, hand covering her grin.

“Please, not now,” I groaned, adjusting the oversized shirt on me. “Just… get me home, okay? Before anyone sees.”

“Wait— Y/N!” she called as I started walking off.

I ignored her. My head was spinning, my chest heavier than my hangover. Guilt nipped at the edges of my thoughts — stupid, because I was single. But still…

Then I heard it.

“Oh?”

I froze.

The living room came into view — too bright, too full. And there he was.

Gojo Satoru.

Standing there like he’d been waiting for the perfect time to ruin my morning.

“Oh, yeah, Y/N,” Yuki started awkwardly, voice a little too chipper, “I was gonna tell you… the whole group’s here.”

My stomach dropped. My eyes met his, that blinding shade of blue I used to call home.

His gaze trailed over me once, taking in the shirt that clearly wasn’t mine — and the way my face must’ve screamed caught.

“Fun night, huh?” he said, voice cool, teasing, sharp enough to cut.

The smirk that followed was worse. It wasn’t amused — it was mocking.

Before I could find words, he was already walking past me, leaving nothing but that bitter sting of his cologne and a silence that burned.

“The audacity of that man,” Shoko muttered from the couch, snapping the tension like a twig.

I just sighed, tugging the shirt lower, letting the girls pull me away — anywhere but there.

Because if I looked back, I knew I’d find him still watching.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Somehow, Satoru had figured it out — that I’d slept with Choso Kamo.

Which, to be fair, was a big deal. Not just because it was Choso, but because he was kind of the ghost in our old relationship. Before Satoru and I ever happened, Choso was the crush. The quiet senior with the unreadable face, the one I used to daydream about instead of doing homework. My type, apparently.

And of course, Satoru Gojo was the opposite — loud, golden, magnetic, everything Choso wasn’t. That was part of why I’d fallen for him. That was also probably why he couldn’t stand hearing Choso’s name now.

Now here we were — back in the cafeteria. Same friend group. Same table. Only difference? We weren’t us anymore.

And it sucked. Because four days after our breakup, he was sitting across from me, letting some random girl perch herself comfortably on his lap like she’d already earned the right.

“Get a room,” Nanami muttered dryly as he sat down, tray in hand. His eyes flicked to me, quiet concern hidden behind his usual monotone.

I took a bite of my burger and rolled my eyes. “Clearly, there’s not much to see, so a room wouldn’t be needed.”

Suguru whistled low under his breath.

Satoru didn’t even look up from his phone. “Jealous much?”

I shot him a look sharp enough to kill a man. Before it could get bloody, Suguru slid in between us, the eternal peacekeeper. “Alright, children, let’s not burn the cafeteria down today.”

Unfortunately, Yuki was here too. And Yuki had no concept of timing or peacekeeping.

“So,” she began, voice way too loud for 11:30 a.m., “how’s everyone?”

A few half-hearted replies followed. I focused on my fries. Maybe if I ignored her long enough—

“Oh, by the way,” Yuki announced, tone casual and completely traitorous, “Y/N hooked up with Choso Kamo at my party!”

The entire table went silent.

My head snapped up so fast I nearly choked. “Yuki!”

“What?!” she said defensively. “That’s, like, an honor. It’s Choso.”

Across the table, a few gasps erupted. Someone from another table actually turned around.

“Choso?!”

Suguru just blinked, then grinned like he’d been waiting for this. “My man!” He reached across to dab me up. I didn’t even bother stopping him.

“Finally,” Mei said, snickering. “Your taste got better.” She paused, eyes darting toward Satoru. “No offense, Gojo. Well, maybe a little.”

The table chuckled, the kind of laughter that tried to cover the tension leaking through the cracks.

And then Satoru spoke.

“Uh-huh,” he said with that careless drawl of his, leaning back in his chair. “What’s Choso gonna do when he realizes he’s just another fuck to her?”

The laughter died instantly.

“Oi, Satoru,” Suguru warned, voice low. Even Yuki’s grin faded.

I set my burger down slowly, wiping my hands, forcing a smile I didn’t feel. My chest felt like it might cave in, but if he wanted a scene — fine.

I met his eyes, steady, sweet, venom hidden behind my voice.

“Jealous much, Toru?”

I dragged out the nickname deliberately — the same one the girl on his lap had just used five minutes ago.

His jaw twitched. The girl shifted awkwardly, sensing she’d just wandered into a battlefield.

For a heartbeat, the whole cafeteria froze — noise dulled, air thick. Just me and him. A standoff.

And maybe it was the worst part of all — that even after everything, I still couldn’t look away.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Of course Satoru had to fuck with every girl I’d ever had issues with—

the same girls he used to gossip about with me. Typical.

I could’ve used Choso to get even. The thought crossed my mind more than once.

But no. Choso’s too good for this kind of mess, too decent to drag into the noise that follows me and Gojo wherever we go.

Besides, I’ve been avoiding him ever since. Thank God the seniors’ building is on the other side of campus. The fewer run-ins, the better.

Still, the rumors don’t stop. They grow legs, multiply, twist themselves into new versions of me I barely recognize.

I hear my name down the hall and keep walking—chin up, heartbeat steady. I’m too smart to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

And that’s when I spot Sukuna leaning against the lockers.

He’s half-hidden in the shade of the open window, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other holding a can of soda like it’s an afterthought.

There’s something lazy about the way he stands—like he owns every inch of the hallway without trying. Tattoos peek from under his sleeve, and his eyes flick up when he notices me.

He doesn’t smile, not really. More like a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, just enough to say I’ve seen worse days, but you might make this one interesting.

I stop a few steps away. “Hey, Sukuna…”

He glances up lazily, one brow raised. “Didn’t expect you to remember my name, princess.”

I shrug, leaning against the machine beside him. “I remember the interesting ones.”

His mouth twitches — not quite a smile. “Flirting before lunch? Bold move.”

“Maybe I’m just bored.”

“Or maybe,” he says, eyes flicking past me toward the courtyard where Satoru’s laugh cuts through the noise, “you’re trying to make someone jealous.”

The air goes still. He doesn’t sound accusing — more entertained. Like he’s found the plot twist before anyone else.

I scoff, feigning indifference. “You think too much.”

He laughs once, low and rough. “Not really. You’re too obvious, princess.” He steps closer, just enough for me to catch the faint scent of his cologne — clean, sharp, something that makes my pulse jump.

“But I don’t mind playing along.”

you might not be sweet...but these three have decided you'll be their treat tonight!

synopsis: attending a frat party for Halloween sounds fun...until all your flings show up when you're trying to seduce someone else!

pairing: frat!Gojo, guitarist!Geto, tutor!Nanami x f!Reader

content: mdni, SMUT SMUT SMUT!, foursome, costumes, reader sleeps around a LOT, rough sex, every hole filled, SO MUCH JEALOUSY, sukuna mentioned, drinking/smoking, casual sex, sleeping around, frat parties, making out, oral sex (m! receiving), unprotected piv sex, anal fingering + sex, being manhandled, creampies, possessive men, nanami is so done with all of them but this is gojo's best night ever lmfao, so much bickering, facial, FILTHY FILTHY STUFF!!

a/n: art is by @/thatsallitchief + divider by @/petalpxl !!

You might look an angel. But you weren't going to be acting like one tonight.

What better excuse was there than Halloween to dress up in as little as possible?

Wearing a flimsy white scrap of fabric that barely passed for a dress, a crooked halo delicately fixed on top of your hair as the tiny wings you strapped on fluttered with every step. Ignoring the stares sticking to glitter shimmering on your skin, reflecting the low streetlights as you stumbled out of your friend's car onto the front lawn of the nicest frat house. A warm buzz already burning underneath your chest from pre-gaming earlier, a tight ball of desire that was starting to pulse and grow fangs of its own as your heels sunk into the grass.

"So, who's the lucky guy tonight?" Yuki giggled, poking your halo back into place.

You'd been the lucky one lately.

Juggling three different men of all different flavors.

Satoru Gojo, the pretty playboy president of the frat club, had fingered you stupid in a dark closet during seven minutes in heaven last weekend. Nanami Kento, your cute history tutor let you give him a handjob in the library after class on Tuesday. And your personal favorite, resident guitarist in a local rock band, Suguru Geto, ate you out backstage after one of his shows just two days ago.

But none of them were more than pretty friends with prettier benefits. Just fun flings. Guys you filled your spare time with.

"Dunno," you lied, finger reaching up to brush over where your lip gloss was already smeared.

Your target tonight was simple: Ryomen Sukuna.

A guy who dealed pot and a few more illicit substances in the corner of frat parties, lips wrapped around a beer while he pocketed the cash he was slipped.

But you heard he had a really big dick - and honestly?

Size did matter.

Especially when the only thing you wanted to suck on tonight wasn't candy.

"Sure," Yuki giggled, looping her arm in yours to pull you out of the way when some drunk dickhead almost spilled his beer on you as he slurred an apology.

Maybe you should've taken it as a sign.

The universe trying to subtly say, 'Hey, this is a bad fucking idea, by the way.'

In your own defense, you never thought all three of them would be here.

Nanami never showed up to parties, like, period. Suguru was too cool for something like this, probably back in his dorm or at some bar with a cute girl in an equally exposing costume flirting for his attention. Satoru, well, you thought he might come, but you figured he'd be wasted by the time you made your appearance. Easy to slip past.

Except, it seemed someone was waiting for you.

Gojo x Reader “Bittersweet”

Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.

Warnings: Emotional tension between exes, jealousy, past relationship drama, mention of infidelity and heartbreak, suggestive themes, strong language, alcohol reference, and heated arguments. Contains angst.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Y/n’s POV

Fully clothed now — thank god — I sat on a rough piece of wood beside him. My ex.

The flickering light from the fire cast shadows on the icy walls, and for a moment, I wondered if fate was just playing one long, cruel joke.

Across from us, Yuji was busy trying to feed the fire while Satoru guided him, like some smug, one-armed survival expert.

“Careful, kid. Don’t smother it — give it air. Fire needs space,” he said, voice low but annoyingly confident, even with a broken leg and arm.

I watched him for a bit — how calm he looked despite everything. Typical Gojo. Too good at everything, even at looking good while injured.

“I’m starving,” I finally muttered, rubbing my cold hands together. My stomach growled in protest as dizziness from exhaustion began to creep in.

Yuji immediately looked up, rummaging through what little we had in our bags before tossing something my way. “Here.”

A small biscuit — two bites at best. Still, I smiled. “Thanks, Yuji.”

He smiled back sheepishly. “No, thank you. You didn’t let go when you could’ve. Honestly, if you hadn’t grabbed me, I’d probably be decorating the bottom of that cliff right now.”

“Don’t say that,” I frowned. “Anyone else from our group would’ve done the same.”

Satoru scoffed from beside me, leaning back against the cold wall, arms crossed with that half-smile of his. “Not me though. I’d say ‘fly high, little bird’ and wave goodbye.”

“Real funny,” I muttered, glancing at him. The corners of his lips quirked up like he was proud of that.

Yuji blinked between us, clearly catching the awkward current in the air. “So… you jumped ‘cause Y/N fell with me?” he asked innocently.

The cave went quiet for a beat. I stared at the fire, waiting — half afraid, half desperate — for Satoru’s answer.

But of course, he brushed it off with a smirk. “Nah, rope snapped. Bad luck, I guess. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Eh? But you were almost at the top!” Yuji pressed, eyes narrowing. “You literally could’ve saved yourself—”

Before he could finish, Satoru lightly punched his shoulder with his good hand. “Ow!” Yuji yelped.

“You talk too much, kid. Focus on keeping that fire alive. You’ll freeze faster than my heart did,” Satoru said, grinning — but there was something in his tone that didn’t match his expression.

Yuji grumbled under his breath and turned back to the fire.

I pretended to look away, but I could feel Satoru’s gaze on me. Maybe it was just the firelight, or maybe it was the fact that he always looked at me like he was memorizing every inch, every reaction.

“So…” I said quietly, without looking at him, “you really didn’t jump?”

There was a pause — one too long for comfort. Then came his answer, soft and half-teasing:

“Would it make a difference if I said I did?”

My breath hitched before I could stop it.

Yuji, completely unaware of the tension that filled the small cave, groaned and rubbed his arm. “Man, you two are weird. Can’t tell if I’m third-wheeling or babysitting right now.”

Satoru chuckled lowly.

I rolled my eyes, trying to laugh it off, but my chest felt tight — painfully tight.

Whether he jumped or not didn’t matter… right?

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Being with Satoru had always been… intense. We were reckless, impulsive teenagers who thought the world revolved around the two of us. Everything back then burned too bright—his touch, his laughter, even our fights. It started small—his fingers brushing against my thigh under the desk, a teasing smirk when I’d glare at him, the kind of silent dares that left my skin tingling. It never took much for us to lose control after that. One minute, we’d be pretending to study; the next, we were skipping class to make out in the janitor’s room like we owned the place.

Of course, fate had a twisted sense of humor. We got caught once—by Sukuna, of all people. I can still remember that smug, knowing grin on his face, the way Satoru froze yet smirked at him, and me trying to hide behind a mop. Tragic, really. Or hilarious, depending on how you look at it. The irony? A few months later, I ended up in that same janitor’s closet—with Sukuna this time. Don’t ask. Life had a funny way of reminding me I was just as reckless as the men I fell for.

I tell myself to stop thinking about all that—to stop dragging my mind back to a time when everything was simpler, messier, but alive. But how could I, when I’m pressed so close to Satoru now, trapped inside a freezing cave, my breath mingling with his in the dim glow of a fire Yuji managed to keep alive? He sits between us, his coat pulled tight, his leg still injured. Yuji’s shivering beside him, looking like a lost puppy trying to act brave.

Satoru’s quiet for once, his usual arrogance replaced by something I can’t quite name. His hair’s a mess, and I can see the faint bruise along his jaw—the kind that reminds me he’s still painfully human. The storm outside howls against the ice, the sound of wind so loud it feels like it’s screaming through my bones.

I tell myself it’s just the cold that makes my heart race, but it’s not. It’s the way he keeps glancing at me from the corner of his eye, like he’s remembering too. The way his hand brushes mine when he shifts, deliberate or not, and I hate that part of me still wants to reach back.

Yuji tries to crack a joke, bless him, something about how he’d rather fight Sukuna in a drawl he knew he’d lose than spend another night in a frozen cave. I smiled—too quickly—and Satoru chuckles low under his breath. That sound alone makes my chest ache.

It’s dark now. The snow outside’s turned into a full-blown blizzard, and though we’re wrapped in layers, the cold still seeps into our bones. But in this tiny cave, between the flicker of the firelight and the quiet sound of his breathing, everything feels suffocating.

The lack of warmth and food was starting to eat at me, but I couldn’t complain. We were stuck in a snowed-in cave after that stupid hike gone wrong, and these two had it worse. Satoru’s leg was wrapped up in a makeshift bandage, Yuji’s arm was swollen, and me… well, I was just cold, dizzy, and awkwardly sitting between my ex and our overly chatty dense friend.

“Y/n, from how much you drank last night, I’m surprised you’re not worse off!” he said brightly, grinning through the chill.

I just hummed, praying to every higher being that the conversation died right there. Of course, it didn’t.

“Uh huh,” Satoru’s voice came, low and amused, “I still remember every detail last night and how cute you were.”

My breath hitched. Cute. He said it too easily, like it wasn’t a word loaded with years of memories and ache. My chest tightened—Utahime’s cruel little words still echoing in my head. I wanted to say something sharp back, but before I could—

“Oh! You mean when Y/n made out with my brother, Choso?”

Silence.

Not the casual kind. The kind that could murder you on the spot.

I turned slowly, blinking, trying to process what he just said. Out of the corner of my eye, Satoru’s face fell from his usual smirk to a flat, unreadable expression.

“W-what?” I managed.

“Yeah!” Yuji nodded, oblivious. “He was so shy about it! I think it was after the game last night? Oh wait—does that make things weird for you guys? Since, y’know, you two used to date and all, and now—”

“Yuji!” I practically shouted, my cheeks burning.

He froze, eyes wide. “Oh. Uh. why?”

I could feel Satoru’s stare burning into me, the kind of stare that demanded an explanation.

And my mouth—traitor that it was—started spilling words before my brain caught up.

“W–wait! I thought that was you, Satoru! Or—or Sukuna or— I don’t even remember, I was half-conscious and—”

“Oh?” His voice came out lower than I expected, smooth but tight. “You thought it was me?”

He leaned back against the wall, eyes narrowing just slightly. His usual teasing tone was still there—but sharper, more like a knife than a joke.

“I carried you upstairs with Yuki,” he said, poking at the fire with a stick, his jaw flexing. “You kept mumbling my name, though. Over and over. Guess you just like saying it. But hey,” he added, that bitter smirk curling back into place, “seems like you’ve got a thing for guys with darker hair now.”

My stomach dropped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yuji blinked between us, slowly connecting dots he absolutely shouldn’t.

“Oh yeah!” he said, as if remembering a fun fact. “That’s right—Satoru-senpai took you upstairs before me and Sukuna went outside. We were messing around and then got stung by bees.” He snorted. “Man, Sukuna was so dramatic about it. He had, like, three red spots on his neck.”

I froze.

My brain short-circuited.

“Wait.” I blinked, once. Twice. Then a slow, dawning horror crept over me.

“Those weren’t hickeys?”

Satoru turned to me with the slowest, most devastating grin I’d ever seen. “Oh my god,” he said, a soft laugh slipping through. “You actually thought you gave Sukuna-”

My face burned. “Shut up—”

He leaned in just enough for the firelight to hit his cheekbones, his eyes glinting like he was enjoying every ounce of my humiliation. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Feeling embarrassed? Or just disappointed they weren’t from you?”

I threw a glove at him, but it only made him chuckle. A low, quiet, infuriating sound.

“Guess you’ve always had a wild imagination,” he said, his tone shifting—less teasing, more… something else. “Too bad it only works when I’m not around.”

The words stung more than I wanted to admit.

I swallowed, forcing a tight smile. “Guess you’ve always had a big mouth.”

He smiled back, but there was no warmth in it. “You didn’t seem to mind before.”

Yuji stood up so fast he nearly tripped over the logs. “I—uh—I’m gonna… go check how deep the snow is outside!”

He vanished in record time.

Leaving just me and Satoru.

And the sound of our fire crackling against the howling storm.

“Choso, huh?” Satoru said, as casually poisonous as ever. I turned my face to hide how my fingers curled at the edge of the coat. Try as I might, I couldn’t mask the prickle in my chest.

“You really gonna bring that up?” I said, voice flat. Let him talk. Let him dig. I was tired of flinching.

He leaned his head back against the cave wall, jaw clenched. “Just funny,” he said casually. “You’re suddenly all friendly with the guy who used to start half our fights.”

I exhaled through my nose, tired already. “You done?”

He didn’t look at me. “Weird, though. I thought it was me that night, but I guess you moaned his name pretty well, huh?”

My stomach dropped. The next thing I knew, I’d accidentally nudged his injured foot, and he hissed.

“Shit—sorry,” I muttered.

He gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Sure you are.”

That was it. “What’s it to you if I did?” I snapped. “You’ve got someone now. So why are you even asking?”

He finally looked at me, eyes sharp even through exhaustion. “Because I don’t get it,” he said, voice low but steady. “You get drunk, say my name like you miss me, and then what? You go make out with someone else right after?”

“You’re not making sense,” I shot back, my chest tight. “You’re acting like I owe you something. You can’t just show up and—”

“I’m not acting like anything,” he cut in, tone flat. “I’m just saying what I saw.”

“Well, maybe you should stop looking,” I said quietly.

He gave a small, dry laugh. “You really did, huh?”

“What?”

“You slept with him.”

I stared at him, searching his face for any trace of humor, but there was none. Just that tired bitterness that clung to him whenever we talked about us.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “Maybe I did. Maybe I will again. What about it?”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile but couldn’t. “Nothing. Guess I just didn’t expect it to be him.”

“It wasn’t about you,” I said, though my voice wavered. “Not everything is.”

He nodded slowly, staring into the fire. “Right. Of course.” Then, after a beat: “Still—guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You always ran when things got hard.”

That one hit deeper than I wanted it to. My throat burned, but I didn’t look away. “And you always pushed until people broke. Guess we’re both good at something.”

He hummed, quiet. “Yeah. Guess so.”

For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire and the wind howling outside.

Then Satoru exhaled softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t trying to start a fight.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I muttered.

He glanced at me — just a flicker of something real behind the sarcasm. “I just… didn’t think you’d move on that fast.”

“I didn’t,” I said honestly. “But what am I supposed to do? Keep waiting for you to come back?”

He looked away again, jaw tightening. “Didn’t say that.”

“Yeah,” I said. “But you wanted it anyway.”

Silence again. He just sat there, staring into the fire like it might burn the conversation away.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Glimpse of the Past

There was something about Satoru Gojo’s parties.

They weren’t just parties — they were events.

The kind everyone at Jujutsu High counted down to the way normal people counted down to Christmas.

Perfect house, loud music, pool lights reflecting off glass cups — and of course, the golden circle: Satoru and his friends.

Suguru, Nanami, Yuki, Mei, Shoko — the school’s definition of untouchable.

And right at the center, the couple everyone envied —

Satoru Gojo and Y/N L/N.

He was the loud, confident troublemaker; she was the student council president with perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect smile.

Together, they looked unstoppable.

But like every teenage dream, theirs was just one good fight away from falling apart.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“Yuki, what the hell— why’d you invite that guy?”

Satoru’s voice cut through the bass-heavy music, loud enough that a few people turned their heads.

He stood near the snack table, one arm already slung around Y/N’s waist possessively, his lips brushing her shoulder as she tried — and failed — to ignore him.

Yuki rolled her eyes mid-sip of her drink. “You mean Choso? He’s my seatmate, Gojo. Chill.”

“I am chill,” Satoru said, very clearly not chill. “I just don’t want him here.”

Y/N sighed, tugging his arm off her. “He’s literally just a guest, Satoru. Why are you acting like he’s the devil?”

“He looks like one,” Satoru muttered under his breath, glaring across the room at the dark-haired boy leaning casually against the wall, talking to Suguru like he’d been part of the group for years.

“Oh my god,” Y/N groaned. “You’re impossible.”

Yuki smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Too bad, Gojo. He’s staying. And he brought snacks — the good kind.”

That was that.

Even if it was Satoru’s house, no one really won against Yuki when she was in her party host era.

So the entire night, Y/N found herself glued to Satoru — literally.

His arm around her waist.

His chin resting on her shoulder.

His hand brushing hers whenever someone new came close.

It wasn’t just protective — it was territorial.

Because even for someone as confident and obnoxiously loved as Satoru Gojo, Choso Kamo was a threat he couldn’t laugh off.

And maybe he had a reason to be nervous.

Rumor had it, Y/N had gotten a bouquet of her favorite snacks that morning — a mix of chocolates and chips tied up with a single rose.

Hidden in the petals were tiny folded notes, each one spelling out her name.

No one had to say who sent it. Everyone already knew.

Even Y/N didn’t deny it — not because she was guilty, but because she couldn’t quite explain what to think when she read that stupid note that said “for the girl who deserves more than perfect.”

And that warmth — that tiny, dangerous spark — was enough to make Satoru spiral.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Hours later, when most of the guests were outside by the pool, Y/N found him leaning against the hallway wall, drink in hand, pretending to be casual.

But she could read him like a book.

His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense. He wasn’t even looking at her when she stopped beside him.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

He snorted. “Totally. Just watching my girlfriend’s type laugh at my best friend’s jokes.”

“Seriously?” she muttered, crossing her arms. “You’re gonna do this now?”

He finally looked at her, blue eyes sharp. “You think I don’t notice how he looks at you?”

“He looks at everyone, Satoru. It’s called being polite.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not polite,” he said flatly. “Especially not when some guy starts sniffing around what’s mine.”

“That possessive now?” she repeated, voice rising.

He opened his mouth to argue, but stopped.

Because there it was again — that shift. The same one that always happened right before they fought.

Her tone going cold.

His temper getting defensive.

Two people who were supposed to be perfect together, slowly realizing they were anything but.

“Whatever,” she said finally, shaking her head. “If you’re that jealous, maybe don’t throw a party and invite half the school next time.”

He turned to walk away, but her voice caught his mid step

“You think I didn’t know about that little date you went on, Satoru?”

Gojo x Reader “Bittersweet”

Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, Rude remarks, hypothermia risk, mild nudity, physical intimacy for warmth, emotional tension between ex-lovers, angst.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Y/n’s POV

Being in a relationship with Satoru Gojo used to feel like living inside a dream.

It wasn’t just love — it was laughter, chaos, and the kind of comfort that only comes when your souls grow up side by side. Being childhood friends meant my parents trusted him completely. “At least she’s with Satoru,” they’d say. Little did they know that being with him meant losing all sense of time and logic.

When he confessed, it was so him — dramatic, loud, impossible to ignore. He stopped an entire soccer match, singing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You” at the top of his lungs. Everyone was staring, but he only looked at me. The next night, after watching 10 Things I Hate About You together, he shyly confessed again — no crowd this time, just him whispering, “You make me feel like I’m starring in my favorite movie.”

Our relationship was full of grand gestures and quiet moments. After every class, I’d find a bouquet of light blue roses or tulips waiting for me, each petal carrying one of his handwritten compliments or tiny poems. He’d grin and say, “You look beautiful in white,” even when I was in my school uniform, hair messy, lips chapped.

And our fights? They were fire and stubbornness — me walking away, him chasing after me, singing that same song until I cracked a smile, mortified but too in love to stay mad. He’d always say, “You don’t get to leave angry, not when I still have something to sing about.”

It wasn’t just a honeymoon phase. Satoru was consistent — his words, that are very true. Through all the teenage heartbreaks and family pressure, he stayed. When we were seventeen and thought we’d break for good, he gave me a promise ring, swearing that he’d find me again no matter what. That little ring still sits buried in my drawer, glinting with memories I wish I could forget.

But then came the real world — and his parents. They liked me, sure. But only as the girl Satoru would outgrow. Not the one he’d choose to love. To them, I was temporary. A phase. And maybe… maybe they were right.

Because now, as I stand here in the cold mountains, I hear her voice.

“Toruuu, I’m cold!” Utahime’s soft giggle slices through the air.

And his — still warm, still playful — answers back,

“Come here, let me warm you up!” He opens his coat, wrapping her in that same warmth that used to be mine.

My chest tightens, my throat burns.

“Hey, you good?”

That voice—steady, calm, familiar. I turned to see Suguru, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, watching me with that knowing half-smile that said he already knew the answer.

“Y–yeah,” I lied, but my voice cracked like thin glass.

He smiled softly, the kind that almost hurt to look at. “I know things are… complicated,” he started carefully. “If I could just—”

“Suguu,” I cut him off, forcing a grin.

“Let’s not, okay? Let’s just have fun.”

He paused, exhaled softly. I didn’t need another sympathetic look, not from him—not from anyone.

Right on cue, Yuki and Yuji’s chaotic energy exploded in the distance.

“ICE CLIMBING!!” they screamed like maniacs, waving their axes in the air.

I chuckled, the heaviness breaking for a second. “You’re right,” Suguru said with a small grin, bumping my shoulder gently. “But I’m here for you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” I smiled faintly, walking beside him as we joined the others getting ready for the climb. It wasn’t even that high—just steep enough to be fun, dangerous enough to make us feel alive. Except, of course, for the right side… where one wrong step led straight to a cliff. Comforting.

“Y/n?”

Utahime’s voice cut through my thoughts. She was standing beside Satoru—her gloved hand brushing his arm, his expression calm but his smile… strained. Too practiced.

“Let’s go on ahead?” she said, all sweetness and challenge.

“Okay,” I said simply, masking the sting in my chest.

Before we could move, another voice—deeper, rougher, way too confident—slid into the mix.

“How ‘bout we go together, princess? I think you’ll need a hand.”

Sukuna.

Of course.

I glanced at him, smirking. “You aren’t done with me yet, I suppose?”

His grin widened, sharp and smug. “You seem to like it that way.”

“You wish, tattoo boy.”

Somewhere behind us, Yuki’s whistle pierced through the freezing air. “Ohhh! One point for Sukuna! Choso, get moving, my money’s on you!”

My head snapped back. “You’re betting on this now?!”

Laughter erupted across the group. Mei, the devil herself, chimed in, “My bet’s still on the one you said was best at fucking.”

“Mei!” I gasped, face heating instantly.

Sukuna’s confident smirk deepened, his body language practically radiating arrogance. He didn’t even have to say anything—the glint in his eyes said yeah, that’s right.

And beside him… Choso.

The ever-gentle, soft-spoken hunk was suddenly quiet—too quiet. His jaw tightened, eyes flicking between me and Sukuna, then quickly darting away. His face was pink, just barely, but enough for me to notice. He pretended to adjust his gloves, muttering something under his breath.

I bit back a smile. He was trying so hard to play it cool.

Meanwhile, Satoru was a few steps ahead, staring straight forward, his usually playful expression wiped clean. His tone was casual—but the bite underneath was sharp enough to cut through ice.

“Seriously,” he said, voice low, “can we just start climbing already? Might be a better use of time than… whatever this is.”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Ice climbing. Of all things.

Of course, Mei and Nanami were the only ones who opted out—smart, reasonable, perfectly dry on solid ground—while the rest of us lunatics geared up to claw our way up a wall of frozen death. We didn’t bother convincing them; no one wins arguing with Mei, and Nanami’s glare alone said, “Absolutely not.”

“Alright losers, try not to embarrass yourselves!” Yuki shouted, already halfway up the ice wall, her energy unmatched.

“Who’s racing?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“The gifted ones,” Mei replied dryly from the sidelines. “So… not you.”

I shot her a look and began climbing anyway. Above me, the overachievers—Yuki, Suguru, Sukuna, and Satoru—were neck and neck, their competitive streaks lighting the air more than the sun ever could.

“You weak-ass bitches!” Yuki yelled victoriously from the top as she finished first.

“Show-off,” I muttered, trying to keep my footing steady.

Below, I heard Shoko call out, “I’m out! Enjoy dying!” before getting helped down. I couldn’t help laughing. Typical Shoko.

At least things were peaceful—until they weren’t.

To my right, Yuji was red-faced, grunting like his pride was physically slipping away with each foot he lost to his senpais. To my left, unfortunately, was Utahime. Lucky me.

And below? Choso. Calm, careful, perfectly capable of passing me and the rest of us, but too considerate to rush ahead.

“So, Y/n…”

Oh no. Her tone. I could already taste the venom.

“…How’s life these days? Must be nice having two attractive men wrapped around your finger.”

My grip faltered slightly. “They aren’t, and that’s just—just some stupid joke Yuki started.” I tried to sound casual, focusing on the next hold.

“Right,” Utahime replied, her voice sugar-coated with disdain. “So, what—Satoru, then? Still aiming for him?”

The insult in her tone hit me harder than the cold wind. My hand slipped off the next hold, metal scraping ice. “I’m not some cheap, indecent ex,” I snapped, heat rising in my chest.

“I didn’t say you were,” she said, a mocking tilt to her voice. “But maybe you are. I mean, last night? What was that about?”

I blinked. “Last night? What do you mean?” My heart started racing for a different reason now—confusion, dread.

Before she could answer, chaos exploded above me.

“Watch out!” Sukuna’s warning came too late.

Yuji, distracted by Sukuna’s smug shove, lost his grip and slammed right into me. My balance vanished instantly, and in the next second, my shoulder clipped Utahime’s side.

She shrieked, slipping—but Choso, quick as ever, caught her harness and yanked her back to safety.

Me? Not so lucky.

The jerk sent me swinging off balance, my boot missing the ice, my pick clattering uselessly against the frozen wall.

“Oh my god—Y/N!!” Yuki’s voice sliced through the panic.

“Shit!” I heard Choso curse below, scrambling to reach me. His gloved hand brushed my ankle for half a second before slipping away.

The rope dug painfully into my waist. I gasped, lungs burning.

“What’s happening!?” someone shouted—Suguru, maybe—but the panic was everywhere. Echoes of “Hold on!” and “Don’t move!” filled the air.

Then I saw it—Yuji, dangling by a single line, his terrified eyes meeting mine.

“Y/n! Don’t hold me!” he yelled, the rope around his waist fraying. “Let go—it’ll snap!”

“Not happening!” I screamed back, reaching for him with shaking hands. “Shut up and hold me!”

“Y/n, no—!”

But it was too late. The sound of splitting fibers was louder than the wind. Snap.

And then the world gave way.

I felt the weight vanish under me, the pull of gravity too fast to think, too fast to scream. Ice shards sliced the air. My stomach lurched. I clutched Yuji tight, both of us falling—spinning, twisting.

Somewhere through the roaring in my ears, I heard it.

“SATORU, NO!”

The voice was distant, drowned by the wind and my own pulse pounding in my head. And before I could make sense of anything—before I could even scream—something slammed into me.

Strong arms. Warm. Familiar.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Author’s POV

The rescue station was chaos disguised as order. The fluorescent lights buzzed harshly overhead, flickering against pale faces lined with panic. Wet snow dripped from everyone’s jackets, the sound of boots against tile echoing with every frantic step.

Nanami stood at the front desk, his patience stretched to breaking. His voice was calm—too calm—but the twitch in his jaw betrayed him. “What do you mean you can’t start the rescue right now?”

The man across from him shifted nervously, clipboard in hand. “We apologize, sir, but the blizzard’s too severe. Visibility is nearly zero. We’ll begin as soon as it clears.”

“As soon as it clears?” Yuki snapped, voice sharp enough to slice through the howl of wind outside. “That could take hours! You’re basically giving them less of a chance to survive!”

“We understand your concern,” the man replied, his tone practiced and hollow, “but we can’t risk our men’s lives either. If we contact backup, they’ll take time to arrive from the nearest town.”

That was the wrong answer.

The crash of metal echoed through the station—a chair went flying, splintering against the wall. Everyone flinched.

“The fuck kind of rescue team is this?!” Sukuna roared, stepping forward like a storm wrapped in flesh. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, veins thrumming under his tattoos.

Suguru was on him in a second, pulling him back before he could lunge across the desk. “Sukuna. Hey. Not helping right now.”

“Not helping?” Sukuna growled, jerking his arm free. “Yuji’s my cousin. And that girl—” his jaw flexed, “—that girl doesn’t deserve to die because your rescue team’s too scared of a little snowstorm.”

Suguru didn’t reply, because there wasn’t much he could say. The tension in the room was choking.

Choso, voice quieter but trembling with restraint, spoke next. “Can’t we go after them? We’re not just gonna sit here while they freeze to death.”

Shoko exhaled a long cloud of smoke from where she leaned against the wall, her eyes tired but sharp. “We don’t even have the right gear,” she said. “If we go out there blind, we’ll die too. We can’t navigate that storm without equipment.”

Silence fell. A suffocating kind. One filled with the sound of snow pounding the glass windows and everyone’s unspoken fear.

And then—Utahime.

Her voice cracked first, trembling, panicked—but bitter. “This is ridiculous! Why don’t we just call Gojo’s family already? They can move mountains if they want. They can do something!”

“Utahime—” Suguru began, but she wasn’t done.

“In the first place, this was that Y/N’s fault!” she snapped. Her hands were shaking, eyes wide, but her tone dripped with resentment. “If she hadn’t been flirting with him nonstop, he wouldn’t have—he wouldn’t have jumped after her like some damn hero!”

Every head in the room turned toward her.

The temperature dropped, and it wasn’t from the blizzard.

Shoko’s voice was calm, but deadly quiet. “I’d be damned to let you talk about her like that,” she said, lowering her cigarette. “She might be dead out there right now, and that’s your reaction?”

“I don’t care!” Utahime barked back, eyes glassy with tears she refused to shed. “She’s been seducing him since we got here! That’s why he followed her!”

“That did it,” Mei muttered from her corner, crossing her arms.

Suguru, the calmest man in the group, finally snapped. His tone wasn’t loud—it was cold, each word deliberate. “You really are that blind, huh?”

Utahime froze.

“Maybe it hasn’t occurred to you,” he continued, stepping closer, “that Satoru never moved on. That all this—” he gestured vaguely toward her, “—was just him trying to convince himself he could. Maybe you were just a distraction. Or a favor to his family. Someone to keep him occupied while he tried not to miss her.”

Her lips trembled. “That’s not true.”

Suguru didn’t even blink. “You know who he wants, Utahime. You’ve always known.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. No one defended her. Not even Yuki, who usually had something smart to say.

Because they all knew Suguru was right.

Utahime looked down, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, while Shoko turned away, crushing her cigarette against the table. The sound echoed in the stillness like a period at the end of a cruel sentence.

Outside, the blizzard raged on—merciless, loud, and indifferent.

And somewhere beneath all that white, Satoru and Y/N were still out there.

Meanwhile

Y/n’s POV

What. The actual. Fuck.

“The fuck?!” I blurted out, voice echoing faintly against the icy walls. My breath misted in the freezing air as I blinked—once, twice—trying to make sense of where the hell I was. A cave. A glacier cave. Cold, glittering walls. And me?

Buried under what looked like every jacket, coat, and sweater known to man.

Wait. Why was I under a mountain of coats?

Someone must’ve dragged me in here. My pulse quickened when I moved and felt… bare skin.

“What the—” I muttered under my breath, glancing down. My clothes were gone, replaced by only thin undergarments. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

My heart started racing, flashes of the fall hitting me all at once—Utahime shouting, Yuji slipping, the cliff cracking beneath us, and then—darkness.

And now this?

I inhaled deeply, mentally preparing for whatever I was about to see. Slowly, I turned my head.

My heart raced, breath puffing out in frantic little clouds. Oh my god. Don’t tell me a yeti found me, undressed me, and—I groaned, dragging my hands down my face. “No. Nope. We’re not doing that.”

Gathering courage. I slowly turned my head, hoping—begging—it was Yuji beside me. Sweet, awkward, I’d never look at you wrong Yuji.

Please let it be Yuji.

I squinted through the pile of coats and gently tugged one down.

…

“Oh dear God.”

There, a few feet beside me, wrapped half in some coats and half in snow—was Gojo Satoru.

Topless. Unconscious. Bruised.

My jaw dropped. “Oh dear,” I whispered, my voice weak. “Did we fall off a cliff and fuck?”

The words slipped out before my brain could stop them.

There was a long pause. Then, his lazy, teasing drawl broke the silence.

“As much as I’d find it interesting to fall off a cliff and fuck—no, we did not.”

I yelped, practically launching back. “S-Satoru! You—You’re awake?!”

He turned his head slightly, lips curling into that maddening smirk. “You sound disappointed, sweetheart.”

Before I could throw a snowball at his stupid handsome face, another voice came from the mouth of the cave.

“You guys up?”

I whipped my head around. “Yuji?! You’re alive?”

He smiled sheepishly, clutching his arm. “Yeah, just a broken arm. Thanks to you two, actually. You saved my ass—literally.”

“Oh, thank god,” I breathed out, relief flooding through me.

Yuji continued, glancing at Gojo with a grimace. “Satoru took most of the hit. Broke his right leg, right arm, and, uh… his neck’s kind of stiff.”

He exhaled sharply, grimacing as he tried to sit up. “I’ve been worse.”

That made my chest tighten. “Don’t move too much, idiot. You’re too hurt”

He tried to grin. “Still handsome, though.”

I rolled my eyes. “Barely.”

Then I noticed Yuji’s ears go red. I followed his gaze—down.

Oh. Right. Still in my underwear.

I shrieked and yanked the nearest coat over me. “YUJI!!”

He turned away immediately. “S-sorry! I’ll go find help! You guys, uh, stay warm!” And just like that, he disappeared faster than a snowflake in lava.

Silence.

“So. Just us again.”

“Don’t start,” I muttered, sitting beside him.

“I wasn’t going to.” He chuckled weakly. “I think I’m too tired to flirt properly.”

“Good.”

A pause. Then, softly: “You really thought we… you know. After the fall?”

I turned to him, cheeks warming. “I was half-delirious and half-dead, excuse me for panicking.”

His lips curved slightly. “You’ve always had a vivid imagination.”

“Shut up,” I mumbled, pulling the coat higher up my shoulders.

We sat like that for a while—awkward, quiet, yet strangely comforting. Then his voice broke the silence again, softer this time.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He shifted slightly, biting back a hiss of pain. “Come here.”

I frowned. “Satoru, you can barely move—”

“Not for me,” he said quietly. “You’ll freeze.”

Something in his tone—gentle, serious, stripped of all his usual arrogance—made my chest ache. Reluctantly, I moved closer, pressing against his uninjured side. His body was warm despite everything, heartbeat steady against my temple.

“Better?” he murmured.

I nodded, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

Then, barely above a whisper, he said, “You scare me sometimes.”

I looked up. “What?”

He smiled faintly. “Because even after everything, I still can’t stop worrying about you.”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. The storm outside roared louder, but here—in this tiny, frozen cave—I could only hear his breathing and my heartbeat refusing to slow down.

Gojo x Reader “Bittersweet”

Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.

Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, suggestive dialogue, alcohol references, and heavy sexual tension. Expect teasing, jealousy, emotional confusion

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Y/n’s POV

Moans. Kisses. Whimpers.

The sounds come first—familiar, dizzying, like an echo from a place I can’t remember but somehow crave.

“You taste just as sweet as you’ve always been.”

That voice—low, deep, and maddeningly close.

“Mm… shut up and kiss me.”

My own voice? Breathless. Needy. Desperate.

Fingers tangle in my hair; lips crash against mine again and again. My back arches, his breath hot against my ear—then a tug, a gasp, a shiver that feels too real. My vision blurs into white stars, the room spinning until—

I jolt awake.

The air is cold. My chest rises and falls too fast, my skin damp with sweat. Beside me, Shoko’s soft snores fill the silence of the dorm room. The sheets are tangled, my heart pounding like it’s still trapped in that dream.

“What the hell…” I whisper, pressing a hand to my forehead. My head throbs.

Who was that?

The voice lingers—familiar, intimate, dangerous. I can almost feel him still, taste the phantom warmth of his mouth against mine.

A dream… right?…yeah definitely a dream.

“Y/n, you up?”

I groaned, rolling over, my head pounding like a war drum. Through blurry eyes, I spotted Yuki standing by the window, holding a steaming mug of coffee like she’d just stepped out of a commercial. Of course, she looked perfect—fresh, glowing, and completely unfair.

“Hey, Yuki…” I mumbled, voice rough, eyes half-open.

She smirked, taking a sip. “Well, someone definitely had fun last night.”

I frowned, trying to piece together the blur that was last night. “Didn’t we all?” I managed, pretending to sound casual, though my mind was still replaying the flashes of me stripping in front of three guys I’ve slept with. God. Kill me now.

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you had it way more than fun, babe. And I’m honestly here for it.”

Before I could even process what that meant, the peace was shattered by Yuji’s obnoxiously cheerful voice blasting through the speaker system.

“WAKE UP LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WE’RE GOING ICE CLIMBING AND THEN SLEDDING!!”

He repeated it—again, and again—his voice echoing through the hallways like a curse.

I heard Shoko groan from the other bed. “If I hear that brat one more time, I’m throwing him off the cliff we’re climbing.”

Mei’s muffled voice followed, “I second that.”

I buried my face in my pillow. “That little shit…”

Yuki just laughed, way too energized for someone who downed an entire bottle of vodka last night. “Come on, hangover princess. Adventure calls!”

“Yeah,” I muttered, dragging myself out of bed.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

After a long, too-hot shower that felt more like a full-on existential crisis, I stared at my reflection in the bedroom. The faceless man from my dream kept flashing in my head like a broken film reel. Every sigh just made it worse.

Conclusion? I just need a good fuck. I’ve been wound up tighter than anything for months. Why am I even punishing myself when he’s out there, living his best life, laughing, flirting, probably giving another girl the same smirk he used to give me?

Nope. Not going down that rabbit hole again. I’ve got bigger problems—like facing them.

“Hold up,” Shoko started, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “I’ve known you for forever, and you told Suguru but not me?!”

She wasn’t exactly furious—Shoko doesn’t do furious—but that slight tilt of her brow? Yeah, I was doomed.

Before I could even explain, Mei jumped in, gasping dramatically. “Excuse me? I’ve been painfully open about my sex life—graphic details included—and you were just sitting there, sipping tea, hiding this kind of gossip from us?”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Oh my god, do I get a lawyer or do I just surrender?”

Yuki, of course, was lounging like a cat who smelled chaos. “Forget the moral betrayal,” she said. “How was it?”

I blinked. “The what now?”

“The sex, obviously,” she said, grinning. “You’ve got three of the hottest men I’ve ever seen under your belt, and you’re giving us nothing? You’re selfish.”

I gasped, appalled. “We are not talking about this!”

Mei scoffed, fake-offended. “Wow. So we bare our souls, and you can’t even rate your exes? Do you even see us as your friends?”

I stared at the ceiling. God, take me now.

“All right, fine!” I snapped, throwing my hands up. In one breath I said “Sukuna fucked the best, Choso ate the best, happy now?!”

They screamed like I’d just announced world peace.

“Damn, Y/N! You lucky bitch!” Yuki howled, shaking my shoulders.

“Okay, but like—where does Satoru fall in this?” Mei asked, leaning forward with an evil glint in her eye.

Oh, she did not.

“That’s enough,” I said quickly, standing up and grabbing my jacket like I was running from a crime scene. “We’re done. I’m done. Everyone shut up and get ready.”

As I walked to the door, I heard Yuki whisper, “That means he fucked and ate the best.”

Shoko snorted. “Nah, that means she’s still emotionally constipated about him.”

“Both,” Mei added.

I slammed the door behind me. “I can hear you!”

“Good!” they yelled back in unison, laughing.

Yeah. They were definitely going to be the death of me.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Every corner of this damn cabin had turned into enemy territory.

The bedroom? Overrun by Shoko, Mei, and Yuki gossiping like their lives depended on it.

The living room? Claimed by Choso and Nanami, looking like two brooding philosophers over black coffee.

The balcony? Utahime — and her aura of judgment — stationed like a sniper with her tea.

And the kitchen? Yuji and Sukuna, for some godforsaken reason, eating raw ramen noodles and arguing about flavor packets.

So, the only safe zone left? The first-floor deck.

Finally. Sanctuary.

The cool air bit at my skin the moment I stepped outside, the muffled chaos fading behind me. I sighed — deep, dramatic, freeing. Coffee in one hand, cigar in the other. Heaven.

I sank into the hanging swing chair, rocking lightly. “Peace,” I whispered to no one, lighting up and exhaling a perfect swirl of smoke. “Actual peace.”

For once, my head wasn’t full of what-ifs or annoying male voices or memories I didn’t ask for. Just me, caffeine, and nicotine — the only stable men in my life.

Until—

“Smoking again, I see?”

The voice cut through the quiet like a knife, low and far too familiar.

My entire body jolted — the cigar slipped from my fingers, and I spilled hot coffee all over my thighs.

“OH MY—shit! Hot, hot!” I hissed, grabbing a napkin.

“Whoa, hey—Plums, you okay?”

I froze.

Plums.

No one called me that. No one but him.

Satoru.

And there he was, standing in front of me like some smug, beautiful problem in a white turtleneck and sweatpants, mug in hand, the morning sun making him look too good for my emotional health.

“What the hell?!” I snapped, mostly to cover up the way my pulse just skyrocketed.

Stepping closer, eyes dropping to the spill on my thigh. “You burned yourself?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, though my voice cracked like the world’s worst liar.

Before I could move, he knelt down and touched my thigh — his palm warm against my skin.

I froze. My heart forgot its job.

I gasped, pushing his hand away. “You can’t just—touch people!”

He looked up, pretending innocence. “Relax, Plums. I was checking if you burned yourself. You were always the dramatic one.”

My face was on fire.

“Then check with your eyes, not your hand!”

He grinned — slow, infuriating. “Well, I used to have permission, remember?”

I blinked. “Wha—You—Gojo—”

He tilted his head, “Gojo?”

His grin widened, sharp as ever. “I see. Back to Gojo now? Thought we were doing first names again last ni-”

“Whatever, i’m outta here” I warned getting up, trying to hide the chaos in my chest.

“Can’t stand my presence?”

“I have no business with you,” I said flatly, grabbing my coffee again — because apparently, humiliation wasn’t enough, I also needed caffeine to survive this.

“Really?” He leaned against the railing, his smirk lazy but his tone bitter. “You’ve been avoiding me like I’m contagious. Can’t even smoke in peace without running into me, huh?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” I lied, taking a sip. “Just avoiding arrogance in the morning.”

“Ouch,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “Still got that sharp tongue. I almost missed it.”

“Yeah? Miss that, not me.”

“Who said I didn’t?” he muttered under his breath, quiet enough to make me doubt I heard it.

Silence stretched between us. The breeze tugged at my hair; he just watched me, too calm, too knowing.

Then—

He was quiet for a moment before saying, “You brought a pack of cigarettes with you, didn’t you?”

I blinked. “What—why?”

He held out his hand.

“You don’t smoke,” I said.

“Maybe I’m picking up bad habits,” he replied, voice light but eyes sharp.

I sighed, reaching into my pocket for the pack. “Here.”

Before I could even hand it to him, he snatched the whole packet— and crushed it in his palm.

I gasped. “Satoru, what the hell?!”

“It’s Satoru now, huh?” His grin was maddening.

“You just—what is wrong with you?!” I shoved his chest, though it felt more like a push against a wall

“Can’t let you keep this, Plums,” he said simply, opening his palm to show the ruined cigarettes. “You know what this does to you.”

My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “But at least I’m consistent.”

I tried to stay angry. Really, I did. But as he turned to leave — shoulders relaxed, smugness practically glowing off him — all I could do was watch him disappear back into the cabin.

That insufferable, beautiful bastard.

I sat back in the swing, glaring at the crushed pack in my hand. My anger fizzled as quickly as it came, replaced by something much worse.

Plums.

He still knew exactly how to unnerve me.

Exactly how to make me feel seventeen again — mad, flustered, and stupidly in love with him.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Now in the cold, snowy mountains — laughter and chaos echoing through the frosted air, the kind that fogs your breath and bites at your nose. Everyone seemed paired off, moving in their own rhythm.

Yuki and Utahime were together, laughing as they adjusted each other’s gear. Shoko and Mei, bickering and joking like always. And Satoru—he was with Yuji, of course, pestering Nanami to no end, ruining the man’s morning peace with his usual over-the-top energy. Though I can’t help but notice the distance between Satoru and Utahime.

“Thought you were afraid of heights,” Sukuna’s low drawl slid behind me, laced with that smugness that always managed to crawl under my skin.

I shot him a look over my shoulder. “I am. But this isn’t really much.”

He smirked — that dangerous, knowing smirk. And that’s when I noticed it: only four of us were left waiting for the next chairlift.

Wait. Four?

Where the hell did everyone else go?

Before I could call out, the chairlift creaked up to us. It seated four.

Me. Sukuna. Choso. And—oh, perfect—no one else.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I looked around — my so-called good, nice friends already gone ahead, waving from above like the traitors they were.

“Seems like you’re riding with me, princess,” Sukuna drawled, the corner of his lips tugging up in a way that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

I exhaled sharply, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t get used to it.”

Then came Choso, ever the quiet storm — tall, soft-spoken, the kind of man whose presence hums more than it speaks. “Here,” he said gently, reaching for the heavy gear I was carrying. “Let me hold that for you.”

His tone was so calm, so careful it almost made me forget what happened last night. Almost.

God, how the hell do you act normal around a man you once moaned the name of?

“Uh… t-thanks,” I mumbled, my voice catching a little.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Sandwiched between two men I’d fucked.

Two men who both knew exactly what I sounded like when I wasn’t pretending to be composed.

The metal bar clinked shut in front of us. The cold breeze nipped at my skin, and yet the heat radiating from both sides of me was suffocating.

Our thighs brushed — lightly at first. Then unavoidably. Sukuna’s leg spread lazily, his arm casually resting behind the backrest, knuckles grazing my shoulder. Choso sat on the other side, quiet but firm, his body heat seeping through the layers of fabric between us.

The scent of them hit me — Sukuna’s musky cologne, sharp and teasing, like sin wrapped in smoke. Choso’s cleaner, soft but heavy with something masculine and grounding.

And there I was, stuck between them, pretending the cold air was the reason my chest was tight.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Finally, Choso spoke up.

“So… how’s your hangover?” His voice was low, almost careful, like he wasn’t sure if I’d bite back or fall asleep mid-answer.

“It’s fine now,” I replied, rubbing my temples with a half-smile. “Took some meds. How about you?”

“I didn’t drink much,” he said simply — quiet, gentle, like he always was.

And then, of course—

Sukuna.

“No one’s gonna ask me?”

I rolled my eyes, already done with his dramatics. “I wasn’t planning to.”

That earned me his trademark smirk — smug, lazy, the kind that always made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. This was our usual dynamic: me pretending I hated his guts, and him enjoying every second of it. The real surprise was still how I ever ended up in bed with him more than once. Especially when Choso — literal boyfriend material — was sitting right beside me, existing like the walking definition of restraint.

But Sukuna, being Sukuna, just couldn’t leave it there.

“I did drink a lot, though,” he said, leaning back like he owned the air around him. “But I’ve got good control, you know? Didn’t forget a thing from last night.” His voice dipped, teasing, dangerous — like he was hinting at something only I should understand.

“Good for you, Sukuna,” I replied flatly, trying to sound bored even as my pulse picked up.

Then he smirked deeper. “Yeah, my neck’s all fucked up, though.”

I frowned, finally glancing his way — and froze.

Faint purple marks trailed down the side of his throat, curling toward his collarbone.

Bruises.

Hickeys.

My heart dropped to my stomach.

And just like that, the dream from this morning — the moans, the whispers, the faceless body above me — came rushing back in vivid flashes.

No. No, no, no. There’s no way.

As if the universe decided to make it worse, he tilted his head toward me and said, “You’ve got one too, right there…” his finger ghosting near my neck, “rough night?”

I choked on my own breath, instantly reaching up to check, patting frantically at my skin.

“You don’t have anything there, Y/N,” Choso cut in, his calm voice grounding me. “He’s just teasing you.”

I exhaled — half relief, half humiliation — sinking back into my seat. But before I could even recover, Choso spoke again, his tone quieter this time… almost unreadable.

“I don’t think it was that long for you to get a—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

My head snapped toward him.

That pause.

That damn pause.

Was he implying what I think he was?

My stomach twisted — not from guilt, but from confusion.

Was he… talking about himself?

Did something actually happen between us—?

The chairlift jolted slightly as we reached the top, breaking the silence. Both men stood, stepping off casually like nothing happened, while my mind spun out of control.

I followed, still dazed, snow crunching beneath my boots, heart pounding in my ears.

Yuki’s voice echoed in my head from this morning — “You definitely had fun last night.”

The dream.

The bruises.

The teasing.

The way Choso didn’t finish his sentence.

Did I really…?

And if I did—

with who?

Gojo x Reader “Bittersweet”

Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.

Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, suggestive dialogue, alcohol references, and heavy sexual tension. Expect teasing, jealousy, emotional confusion

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Y/n’s POV

Moans. Kisses. Whimpers.

The sounds come first—familiar, dizzying, like an echo from a place I can’t remember but somehow crave.

“You taste just as sweet as you’ve always been.”

That voice—low, deep, and maddeningly close.

“Mm… shut up and kiss me.”

My own voice? Breathless. Needy. Desperate.

Fingers tangle in my hair; lips crash against mine again and again. My back arches, his breath hot against my ear—then a tug, a gasp, a shiver that feels too real. My vision blurs into white stars, the room spinning until—

I jolt awake.

The air is cold. My chest rises and falls too fast, my skin damp with sweat. Beside me, Shoko’s soft snores fill the silence of the dorm room. The sheets are tangled, my heart pounding like it’s still trapped in that dream.

“What the hell…” I whisper, pressing a hand to my forehead. My head throbs.

Who was that?

The voice lingers—familiar, intimate, dangerous. I can almost feel him still, taste the phantom warmth of his mouth against mine.

A dream… right?…yeah definitely a dream.

“Y/n, you up?”

I groaned, rolling over, my head pounding like a war drum. Through blurry eyes, I spotted Yuki standing by the window, holding a steaming mug of coffee like she’d just stepped out of a commercial. Of course, she looked perfect—fresh, glowing, and completely unfair.

“Hey, Yuki…” I mumbled, voice rough, eyes half-open.

She smirked, taking a sip. “Well, someone definitely had fun last night.”

I frowned, trying to piece together the blur that was last night. “Didn’t we all?” I managed, pretending to sound casual, though my mind was still replaying the flashes of me stripping in front of three guys I’ve slept with. God. Kill me now.

Yuki raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you had it way more than fun, babe. And I’m honestly here for it.”

Before I could even process what that meant, the peace was shattered by Yuji’s obnoxiously cheerful voice blasting through the speaker system.

“WAKE UP LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WE’RE GOING ICE CLIMBING AND THEN SLEDDING!!”

He repeated it—again, and again—his voice echoing through the hallways like a curse.

I heard Shoko groan from the other bed. “If I hear that brat one more time, I’m throwing him off the cliff we’re climbing.”

Mei’s muffled voice followed, “I second that.”

I buried my face in my pillow. “That little shit…”

Yuki just laughed, way too energized for someone who downed an entire bottle of vodka last night. “Come on, hangover princess. Adventure calls!”

“Yeah,” I muttered, dragging myself out of bed.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

After a long, too-hot shower that felt more like a full-on existential crisis, I stared at my reflection in the bedroom. The faceless man from my dream kept flashing in my head like a broken film reel. Every sigh just made it worse.

Conclusion? I just need a good fuck. I’ve been wound up tighter than anything for months. Why am I even punishing myself when he’s out there, living his best life, laughing, flirting, probably giving another girl the same smirk he used to give me?

Nope. Not going down that rabbit hole again. I’ve got bigger problems—like facing them.

“Hold up,” Shoko started, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. “I’ve known you for forever, and you told Suguru but not me?!”

She wasn’t exactly furious—Shoko doesn’t do furious—but that slight tilt of her brow? Yeah, I was doomed.

Before I could even explain, Mei jumped in, gasping dramatically. “Excuse me? I’ve been painfully open about my sex life—graphic details included—and you were just sitting there, sipping tea, hiding this kind of gossip from us?”

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Oh my god, do I get a lawyer or do I just surrender?”

Yuki, of course, was lounging like a cat who smelled chaos. “Forget the moral betrayal,” she said. “How was it?”

I blinked. “The what now?”

“The sex, obviously,” she said, grinning. “You’ve got three of the hottest men I’ve ever seen under your belt, and you’re giving us nothing? You’re selfish.”

I gasped, appalled. “We are not talking about this!”

Mei scoffed, fake-offended. “Wow. So we bare our souls, and you can’t even rate your exes? Do you even see us as your friends?”

I stared at the ceiling. God, take me now.

“All right, fine!” I snapped, throwing my hands up. In one breath I said “Sukuna fucked the best, Choso ate the best, happy now?!”

They screamed like I’d just announced world peace.

“Damn, Y/N! You lucky bitch!” Yuki howled, shaking my shoulders.

“Okay, but like—where does Satoru fall in this?” Mei asked, leaning forward with an evil glint in her eye.

Oh, she did not.

“That’s enough,” I said quickly, standing up and grabbing my jacket like I was running from a crime scene. “We’re done. I’m done. Everyone shut up and get ready.”

As I walked to the door, I heard Yuki whisper, “That means he fucked and ate the best.”

Shoko snorted. “Nah, that means she’s still emotionally constipated about him.”

“Both,” Mei added.

I slammed the door behind me. “I can hear you!”

“Good!” they yelled back in unison, laughing.

Yeah. They were definitely going to be the death of me.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Every corner of this damn cabin had turned into enemy territory.

The bedroom? Overrun by Shoko, Mei, and Yuki gossiping like their lives depended on it.

The living room? Claimed by Choso and Nanami, looking like two brooding philosophers over black coffee.

The balcony? Utahime — and her aura of judgment — stationed like a sniper with her tea.

And the kitchen? Yuji and Sukuna, for some godforsaken reason, eating raw ramen noodles and arguing about flavor packets.

So, the only safe zone left? The first-floor deck.

Finally. Sanctuary.

The cool air bit at my skin the moment I stepped outside, the muffled chaos fading behind me. I sighed — deep, dramatic, freeing. Coffee in one hand, cigar in the other. Heaven.

I sank into the hanging swing chair, rocking lightly. “Peace,” I whispered to no one, lighting up and exhaling a perfect swirl of smoke. “Actual peace.”

For once, my head wasn’t full of what-ifs or annoying male voices or memories I didn’t ask for. Just me, caffeine, and nicotine — the only stable men in my life.

Until—

“Smoking again, I see?”

The voice cut through the quiet like a knife, low and far too familiar.

My entire body jolted — the cigar slipped from my fingers, and I spilled hot coffee all over my thighs.

“OH MY—shit! Hot, hot!” I hissed, grabbing a napkin.

“Whoa, hey—Plums, you okay?”

I froze.

Plums.

No one called me that. No one but him.

Satoru.

And there he was, standing in front of me like some smug, beautiful problem in a white turtleneck and sweatpants, mug in hand, the morning sun making him look too good for my emotional health.

“What the hell?!” I snapped, mostly to cover up the way my pulse just skyrocketed.

Stepping closer, eyes dropping to the spill on my thigh. “You burned yourself?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, though my voice cracked like the world’s worst liar.

Before I could move, he knelt down and touched my thigh — his palm warm against my skin.

I froze. My heart forgot its job.

I gasped, pushing his hand away. “You can’t just—touch people!”

He looked up, pretending innocence. “Relax, Plums. I was checking if you burned yourself. You were always the dramatic one.”

My face was on fire.

“Then check with your eyes, not your hand!”

He grinned — slow, infuriating. “Well, I used to have permission, remember?”

I blinked. “Wha—You—Gojo—”

He tilted his head, “Gojo?”

His grin widened, sharp as ever. “I see. Back to Gojo now? Thought we were doing first names again last ni-”

“Whatever, i’m outta here” I warned getting up, trying to hide the chaos in my chest.

“Can’t stand my presence?”

“I have no business with you,” I said flatly, grabbing my coffee again — because apparently, humiliation wasn’t enough, I also needed caffeine to survive this.

“Really?” He leaned against the railing, his smirk lazy but his tone bitter. “You’ve been avoiding me like I’m contagious. Can’t even smoke in peace without running into me, huh?”

“I’m not avoiding you,” I lied, taking a sip. “Just avoiding arrogance in the morning.”

“Ouch,” he said, clutching his chest dramatically. “Still got that sharp tongue. I almost missed it.”

“Yeah? Miss that, not me.”

“Who said I didn’t?” he muttered under his breath, quiet enough to make me doubt I heard it.

Silence stretched between us. The breeze tugged at my hair; he just watched me, too calm, too knowing.

Then—

He was quiet for a moment before saying, “You brought a pack of cigarettes with you, didn’t you?”

I blinked. “What—why?”

He held out his hand.

“You don’t smoke,” I said.

“Maybe I’m picking up bad habits,” he replied, voice light but eyes sharp.

I sighed, reaching into my pocket for the pack. “Here.”

Before I could even hand it to him, he snatched the whole packet— and crushed it in his palm.

I gasped. “Satoru, what the hell?!”

“It’s Satoru now, huh?” His grin was maddening.

“You just—what is wrong with you?!” I shoved his chest, though it felt more like a push against a wall

“Can’t let you keep this, Plums,” he said simply, opening his palm to show the ruined cigarettes. “You know what this does to you.”

My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe,” he said with a wink. “But at least I’m consistent.”

I tried to stay angry. Really, I did. But as he turned to leave — shoulders relaxed, smugness practically glowing off him — all I could do was watch him disappear back into the cabin.

That insufferable, beautiful bastard.

I sat back in the swing, glaring at the crushed pack in my hand. My anger fizzled as quickly as it came, replaced by something much worse.

Plums.

He still knew exactly how to unnerve me.

Exactly how to make me feel seventeen again — mad, flustered, and stupidly in love with him.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Now in the cold, snowy mountains — laughter and chaos echoing through the frosted air, the kind that fogs your breath and bites at your nose. Everyone seemed paired off, moving in their own rhythm.

Yuki and Utahime were together, laughing as they adjusted each other’s gear. Shoko and Mei, bickering and joking like always. And Satoru—he was with Yuji, of course, pestering Nanami to no end, ruining the man’s morning peace with his usual over-the-top energy. Though I can’t help but notice the distance between Satoru and Utahime.

“Thought you were afraid of heights,” Sukuna’s low drawl slid behind me, laced with that smugness that always managed to crawl under my skin.

I shot him a look over my shoulder. “I am. But this isn’t really much.”

He smirked — that dangerous, knowing smirk. And that’s when I noticed it: only four of us were left waiting for the next chairlift.

Wait. Four?

Where the hell did everyone else go?

Before I could call out, the chairlift creaked up to us. It seated four.

Me. Sukuna. Choso. And—oh, perfect—no one else.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

I looked around — my so-called good, nice friends already gone ahead, waving from above like the traitors they were.

“Seems like you’re riding with me, princess,” Sukuna drawled, the corner of his lips tugging up in a way that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

I exhaled sharply, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t get used to it.”

Then came Choso, ever the quiet storm — tall, soft-spoken, the kind of man whose presence hums more than it speaks. “Here,” he said gently, reaching for the heavy gear I was carrying. “Let me hold that for you.”

His tone was so calm, so careful it almost made me forget what happened last night. Almost.

God, how the hell do you act normal around a man you once moaned the name of?

“Uh… t-thanks,” I mumbled, my voice catching a little.

Awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Sandwiched between two men I’d fucked.

Two men who both knew exactly what I sounded like when I wasn’t pretending to be composed.

The metal bar clinked shut in front of us. The cold breeze nipped at my skin, and yet the heat radiating from both sides of me was suffocating.

Our thighs brushed — lightly at first. Then unavoidably. Sukuna’s leg spread lazily, his arm casually resting behind the backrest, knuckles grazing my shoulder. Choso sat on the other side, quiet but firm, his body heat seeping through the layers of fabric between us.

The scent of them hit me — Sukuna’s musky cologne, sharp and teasing, like sin wrapped in smoke. Choso’s cleaner, soft but heavy with something masculine and grounding.

And there I was, stuck between them, pretending the cold air was the reason my chest was tight.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Finally, Choso spoke up.

“So… how’s your hangover?” His voice was low, almost careful, like he wasn’t sure if I’d bite back or fall asleep mid-answer.

“It’s fine now,” I replied, rubbing my temples with a half-smile. “Took some meds. How about you?”

“I didn’t drink much,” he said simply — quiet, gentle, like he always was.

And then, of course—

Sukuna.

“No one’s gonna ask me?”

I rolled my eyes, already done with his dramatics. “I wasn’t planning to.”

That earned me his trademark smirk — smug, lazy, the kind that always made you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. This was our usual dynamic: me pretending I hated his guts, and him enjoying every second of it. The real surprise was still how I ever ended up in bed with him more than once. Especially when Choso — literal boyfriend material — was sitting right beside me, existing like the walking definition of restraint.

But Sukuna, being Sukuna, just couldn’t leave it there.

“I did drink a lot, though,” he said, leaning back like he owned the air around him. “But I’ve got good control, you know? Didn’t forget a thing from last night.” His voice dipped, teasing, dangerous — like he was hinting at something only I should understand.

“Good for you, Sukuna,” I replied flatly, trying to sound bored even as my pulse picked up.

Then he smirked deeper. “Yeah, my neck’s all fucked up, though.”

I frowned, finally glancing his way — and froze.

Faint purple marks trailed down the side of his throat, curling toward his collarbone.

Bruises.

Hickeys.

My heart dropped to my stomach.

And just like that, the dream from this morning — the moans, the whispers, the faceless body above me — came rushing back in vivid flashes.

No. No, no, no. There’s no way.

As if the universe decided to make it worse, he tilted his head toward me and said, “You’ve got one too, right there…” his finger ghosting near my neck, “rough night?”

I choked on my own breath, instantly reaching up to check, patting frantically at my skin.

“You don’t have anything there, Y/N,” Choso cut in, his calm voice grounding me. “He’s just teasing you.”

I exhaled — half relief, half humiliation — sinking back into my seat. But before I could even recover, Choso spoke again, his tone quieter this time… almost unreadable.

“I don’t think it was that long for you to get a—”

He stopped mid-sentence.

My head snapped toward him.

That pause.

That damn pause.

Was he implying what I think he was?

My stomach twisted — not from guilt, but from confusion.

Was he… talking about himself?

Did something actually happen between us—?

The chairlift jolted slightly as we reached the top, breaking the silence. Both men stood, stepping off casually like nothing happened, while my mind spun out of control.

I followed, still dazed, snow crunching beneath my boots, heart pounding in my ears.

Yuki’s voice echoed in my head from this morning — “You definitely had fun last night.”

The dream.

The bruises.

The teasing.

The way Choso didn’t finish his sentence.

Did I really…?

And if I did—

with who?

Gojo x Reader “Bittersweet”

Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.

Warning: This chapter contains heavy tension, suggestive themes, alcohol use, and chaotic party energy. Expect teasing, jealousy, and lots of heat — read at your own risk

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Y/N’s POV

I can feel his eyes on me — heavy, familiar, and annoyingly deliberate.

Gojo Satoru never looks at anything halfway; even when he’s pretending he’s not watching, he makes sure I feel it.

And out of this entire friend group, only three people know how awkward this truly is — me, my ex, and Suguru.

The others? Oh, they think this is all harmless fun. Yuki’s “little treat” for me.

Sure, if “treat” means dragging two of my biggest mistakes into the same room as my ex.

Yuji, bless his chaotic heart, is the first to break the silence.

“Choso-niisan?? And Sukuna?! Whoa, that’s random!” He laughs, waving them over like we’re not about to recreate Love Island: Emotional Damage Edition.

Sukuna’s the first to speak, smirk deepening as his eyes find mine.

“Yuki got me coming here like I needed to,” he says, voice smooth, rough-edged, dangerous.

I hate that my stomach flips. Not again, Y/N. Not over a man with tattoos and a smirk that could ruin me.

And right when my brain’s short-circuiting, the devil himself speaks.

Satoru.

“I wouldn’t be too surprised,” he says casually, twirling his drink. “Yuki’s good at convincing people to do things for her.”

Then he looks right at me, smirking.

“But I bet someone’s really enjoying this right now.”

Venom. Pure, charming, Gojo-branded venom.

I hum softly, pretending to be amused, Asshole. You have Utahime sitting on your lap and now you’re suddenly acknowledging my presence?

“Well,” Yuki spoke up, forcing my grin wider, “I’m here now. With them. So—are we drinking or what?!”

Everyone cheered…here we go.

You see, during my ten-year mess of a relationship with Satoru, there was this seven-month breakup we refused to admit was a breakup.

We were seventeen, stupid, and dramatic — the perfect disaster.

That was when I found out Satoru’s parents set him up on a date behind my back. He didn’t tell me.

So, naturally, I got pissed.

And naturally, Yuki threw a party.

Choso was there. The hot senior who could say “hi” and suddenly your knees just forget their function.

We drank. We flirted.

And… yeah. That happened.

Satoru found out, and we really broke up.

Then two months later, rumors started flying — he slept around, the school called me “the girl Gojo dumped,” and my pride said, ‘Oh, we’re not doing that.’

So I fucked his rival, Sukuna. Four glorious weeks of chaos and bad decisions.

It was great. Until it wasn’t.

“Hey.”

The voice pulls me back. Choso’s beside me now, sliding a canned drink across the table.

“How’ve you been?” His tone’s the same as always — calm, genuine. The kind that makes you feel like you can breathe for a second.

“I’ve been… alright,” I say, managing a small smile. “Working from city to city, how about you? you’ve been well I heard.”

Before he can reply, Yuki’s loud voice cuts in like a cymbal crash.

“Yes, for sure, indeed, Choso! Y/N’s soooo single!”

The group bursts out laughing, raising their drinks like I just got baptized in tequila.

I glance across the fire.

Satoru’s laughing, too — hand over his face, shoulders shaking. But I know that laugh. It’s the one that means you got under my skin, but I’ll make you think you didn’t.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says finally, lowering his hand, his smile sharp enough to cut. “She’s single. Nothing new.”

He leans back, tone turning colder. “Anyway, let’s liven things up — things got boring.”

Suguru hums, giving him that warning look he always does when Satoru’s about to be an asshole.

Me? I just take a sip of my drink and smile faintly.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s that pretending not to care hurts him more than showing I do.

“How about we play dare or dare?”

Yuki’s grin screams trouble, and naturally, everyone groans in unison.

Except for him.

“I like the sound of that,” Satoru says smoothly, the corner of his mouth lifting.

Utahime’s already perched on his lap again like she owns the seat — or him.

Cute. Love that for me.

I’m sandwiched between Choso and Yuki. Honestly? Not a bad view.

Choso’s being his usual calm, soft-spoken self, asking about my week like this isn’t a social war zone. Mature, polite, and pretty. If only my teenage brain had chosen him instead of Mr. Emotional Headache across the fire.

“The fuck is that kind of game?” Suguru mutters, looking half-tipsy, half-done with everyone. “You mean truth or dare?”

“Whatever that is, I’m out,” Nanami announces, standing up like a disappointed dad leaving a party. No one stops him — we all know he’ll be in bed reading by nine.

Yuki rolls her eyes dramatically. “Boo! Truth or dare is for pussies! With dare or dare, you just pick which dare you’re ballsy enough to do!”

She cackles like the chaos gremlin she is.

I should leave. I really should. My brain says get up like Nanami, but my heart (and tequila) says stay and suffer attractively.

Then Utahime, of course, opens her mouth.

“I’m in!”

“Well, I like you already!” Yuki beams, clinking her glass with Utahime’s.

That does it.

Something in me snaps. Maybe it’s pride. Maybe it’s jealousy. Maybe it’s the three drinks I’ve downed since dinner.

“This better be fun,” Shoko says dryly, exhaling smoke like she’s narrating a documentary.

“Fine,” I mutter. “I’m fucking in. Don’t be too shy with the dares.”

The words come out lower, smoother, more confident than I feel.

“Oooh, Y/N, you’re just making it hot in here,” Mei teases, fanning herself dramatically.

I smirk, taking a slow sip, letting the burn roll down my throat as my gaze flicks toward Sukuna.

He’s already staring — smirking like he’s waiting for a challenge.

I look away fast. Bad move. Because guess who’s staring next?

Of course. Him.

Satoru.

Elbows on his knees, chin tilted slightly, that infuriating smirk painted across his lips. He looks amused. Dangerous.

My heart betrays me with a stupid skip, and my brain goes: great, back to square one, dumbass.

Whatever. I’m not letting him win this silent war.

I toss my hair back, leaning into my seat between Choso and Yuki, pretending to look completely unbothered.

“Alright then,” I say, flashing a grin. “Whatever happens tonight, stays tonight.”

“Vegas rules?” Mei laughs.

“Exactly,” I say, voice steady, even though my pulse isn’t. “Except we’re not in Vegas.”

Sukuna hums. “Shame. I’d like to see what you’d do in Vegas.”

I grin back — maybe a little too sharp. “Keep dreaming, tattoo boy.”

The group howls with laughter, and the air shifts.

That tense, electric quiet right before something stupidly hot and hilariously messy happens.

And through it all, Satoru’s still watching.

Smiling.

Like he already knows he’s not done with me yet.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Somehow, we’ve migrated from the freezing balcony to the cozy TV room — the air thick with heat, laughter, and the faint smell of roasted marshmallows and bad decisions.

Two rounds into dare or dare — or whatever this demonic invention is — and we already have casualties.

Yuji’s been sent to bed after Suguru dared him to pee in the jacuzzi and then drink from it.

He actually considered it. Considered it. I’ve seen enough.

“Night, champ!” Mei called after him, cackling.

Now, the rest of us are sprawled across the couches and rugs, cheeks flushed, drinks half-finished, and logic long gone.

And then there’s him.

Gojo Satoru.

Shirtless. Because apparently, between “kiss Utahime for a minute” and “lose the shirt,” he’d rather flash his abs than his pride.

Typical.

Utahime didn’t seem to mind either — she’s lounging beside him, acting unbothered, but her smile says otherwise.

Me? I’m totally fine. Perfectly fine. Exceptionally fine.

…Okay, I might be glaring at the fireplace a little too hard.

My drink’s warm in my hand, the alcohol buzz just enough to blur the edges of irritation into something else. Something dangerous.

Shoko’s half-laughing, half-scolding. “You’re all gonna regret this tomorrow, you know that, right?”

“Tomorrow’s problem,” Mei replies, already pouring another round.

I look over again, and of course, Satoru catches my gaze mid-sip — that lazy smirk tugging at his mouth like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He stretches, muscles flexing like it’s a damn movie scene, then throws me a look. “What? You seem distracted.”

My lips curl into a faint smile. “Just trying to figure out what’s more tragic — your ego or your sense of fashion.”

He chuckles, head tipping back slightly. “Still paying attention, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

I roll my eyes, turning away before my face betrays me.

The room bursts into laughter over another dare, and for a second, I’m grateful for the noise. It hides the way my heart keeps tripping over itself.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Author’s POV

“Finally, Y/N!”

Y/N groaned, cheeks flushed from the drinks. “Mmm, don’t bore me now,” she teased, spinning the wine glass between her fingers. Shoko, Yuki, and Mei exchanged knowing looks — that mischievous kind that meant something was about to go down.

Suguru leaned forward, grinning like a man with a secret.

“I’ve got one,” he said.

Yuki gasped dramatically. “Suguru speaking? This must be serious!”

Everyone laughed until he dropped the bomb:

“Sit on the lap of the person you think is the biggest red flag here for sixty seconds or Swap shirts with someone in the group — no leaving the room.”

The group erupted. Yuki was already hollering, “That’s evil!” while Utahime sat up straighter, eyes darting toward Satoru.

Y/N’s laughter stalled.

Utahime’s voice came smooth, but sharp as glass. “Well, how would she even know who’s the biggest red flag? She’s only ever been with Toru.”

The air went still. Y/N tilted her head, her smile tight.

“Relax, Utahime,” she said sweetly, voice edged with danger. “I’m not planning on sitting on your man. I’m sure there are worse options.”

Sukuna leaned forward, smirking. “Oh, she knows us all very well.”

Her smirk returning. “Don’t worry, Utahime. I’m not in the mood to sit on anyone’s… ego tonight.”

A low wave of laughter rippled through the room — Shoko chuckled behind her drink.

Suguru raised a brow. “So… you’re undressing then? With whom?”

Y/N shot him a lazy grin. “You sound awfully eager, Suguru. Something you want to admit?”

Everyone hollered in amusement. The teasing was thick in the air, tension crackling like electricity.

The teasing tone had the room buzzing. Even Satoru, lounging back like he owned the world, couldn’t help but glance her way — sharp blue eyes flicking over her, trying not to look too long.

“You’re all talk,” he finally said, voice low, almost bored. “You gonna take the dare, or just keep trying to sound dangerous?”

Y/N’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Dangerous is doing something stupid, right?”

Satoru chuckled. “Yeah, like still wanting to impress your ex.”

The whole group went quiet.

The tension hung thick — even the fire outside seemed to flicker lower.

Yuki clapped once, trying to ease it. “Soo, Y/N? What’s it gonna be?”

Y/N met Satoru’s gaze head-on. That smug look of his — confident, untouchable, taunting.

Fine. Two can play that game.

She stood up slowly, smirk tugging at her lips.

Everyone went still, watching her — waiting.

“Well,” she said, drawing out the word, “if we’re going by red flags…” Her eyes scanned the room. “I’d say there’s a few I could sit on, but that’d be a public service announcement, not a dare.”

The group howled. Satoru leaned back, jaw tightening, a flicker of irritation showing before he hid it behind a laugh.

Then she turned toward Choso, eyes glinting. “You.”

Choso blinked, startled.

Y/N grinned, stepping forward like a queen about to make her move. As she tugged on her sweater upwards slowly — revealing her perky tits sitting perfectly in her black lace undergarment

She had the room in her hands and she knows that.

The girls screamed, half cheering, half scandalized, while the guys… well, none of them even tried to hide their reactions.

“Choso,” Y/N purred, voice dripping with amusement, “would you mind changing sweaters with me?”

Choso blinked — once, twice — clearly trying to process what just happened as she leaned closer, the scent of her perfume wrapping around him. “S-sure,” he stammered, his voice suddenly rough, eyes darting everywhere except where they wanted to be.

“Don’t be shy,” Yuki teased, slapping his arm. “You heard the lady.”

He nodded, gulping audibly as he peeled off his sweater — his toned abs catching the light.

Someone whistled. Yuki’s voice cut through the noise, half laughing, half amazed.

“Damn, underneath all that emo? You’re ripped!”

Laughter burst out, but it didn’t mask the tension humming in the air.

Y/N, ever the performer, accepted Choso’s sweater like it was a prize. Her fingers brushed his as she slipped it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame, his scent instantly clinging to her skin.

Choso froze — a deep shade of red crawling up his neck.

Meanwhile, Satoru’s jaw twitched.

Y/N caught his look from across the room and gave him a slow, taunting smile — the kind that said I win.

Sukuna leaned back with a grin that could cut steel. “Too bad, princess. I was wearing your favorite sweater tonight.”

Y/N shot him a wicked glance. “Then it’s a good thing I upgraded.”

That got the room howling again.

Even Shoko — ever the composed one — just sighed and muttered, “I knew this would turn into a mess.”

“Y/N, you’re hot!” Yuki screamed, raising her drink.

The group joined in, cheering, laughing, teasing — the whole place alive with alcohol, chaos, and heat.

Through it all, Y/N just smirked, sinking into her new oversized sweater.

She felt tipsy, powerful, untouchable — her pulse thrumming with adrenaline and the thrill of it all.

Satoru, though, didn’t cheer. He just watched. Quietly.

That stupid grin still on his face, but his eyes? They gave him away — the kind of look that wasn’t just playful.

It was hungry.

Possessive.

Y/N lifted her glass again, smirking as if she didn’t feel it. “So,” she drawled, “who’s next?”

Gojo x Reader “Bittersweet”

Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old

Warning: This story contains heavy emotional tension, jealousy, suggestive dialogue, and messy ex-lover dynamics that may cause secondhand heartbreak

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Y/n’s POV

Last night was hell.

I tried to act normal —smile, laugh, maybe even toss a joke or two —but every time I caught sight of him, it was like someone pressing a bruise I’ve been pretending wasn’t there. If I looked even slightly uncomfortable, it’d be admitting the truth: I’m not over him.

And I think he knows. God, I hate that he knows.

It’s around noon now. I haven’t left the room once. Shoko brought me breakfast that turned into lunch, and she’s been keeping me company while Mei hums around, getting ready to ski like we’re not all living in emotional purgatory.

“I’ve always found that girl annoying,” Mei says, tightening her gloves. “She’s wealthy, but not wealthy enough to make it bearable.”

Shoko exhales smoke beside me, the window cracked just enough for the cold air to mix with the scent of nicotine.

Yes, I smoke. A nasty little habit Satoru made me quit years ago. Now it’s my small act of rebellion. Or maybe self-destruction. Hard to tell these days.

“Let that bitch be, Y/N,” Mei says, tossing her hair. “Come on, let’s go ski. We’re not letting her ruin your week.”

Right. I shouldn’t. I won’t. I can’t let that girl take away the fun I was supposed to have with my friends.

“Fineee,” I groan, dragging myself out of bed. “But if I fall, you’re carrying me back.”

⸻

The cold outside hits like a slap, but at least it keeps me awake.

I’ve known Satoru since forever —like, literally, since we were kids. He was the boy next door, always showing off, always making me laugh. We grew up together with Suguru and Shoko; we were the inseparable four.

Then high school happened. Somewhere between late-night study sessions and stupid dares, we fell in love. We started dating at fifteen. Stayed together till twenty-five. Ten years. A whole decade of us.

We were that couple.

The one everyone teased, envied, adored.

And then one day, we weren’t.

“Hey, Y/N. Need a hand?”

I nearly drop the ski gear when I hear Nanami’s voice behind me. He looks just like he did back then —calm, steady, polite. The opposite of Satoru’s chaos.

“Oh, thank you, Kento!” I smile, trying to sound casual as he helps me adjust the gear. “How’ve you been? I rarely hear from you anymore.”

“I’ve been good,” he says, tightening a strap. “Though, I didn’t expect Satoru to move on so soon. I take it you’re doing okay?”

My chest tightens at his words. I force a smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

He gives me that soft look — the one that says he knows I’m lying.

Then, laughter pierces the air.

A familiar voice.

Satoru’s.

I turn instinctively, just in time to see Yuji rolling down the slope in chaos while Satoru and Utahime speed past, laughing like they’re in some winter commercial.

“‘Toru! Stop! We’re going too fast!” Utahime squeals, clutching his arm.

My stomach drops.

That nickname.

‘Toru.’

I used to be the only one who called him that.

“What a cute couple,” an old woman nearby says, smiling at the scene.

I swallow hard, forcing my gaze away, pretending I didn’t hear her.

It shouldn’t hurt. It’s been three months. Three months should be enough to stop caring, right?

But it still hurts like it happened yesterday.

I hate that I still look for him in every laugh, every voice, every shadow on the snow.

I hate that I still remember how warm his hands felt fixing my gloves.

And I hate that even now, standing here pretending to be fine, part of me still wishes it was me laughing with him.

Yeah, I left early.

Stupid of me, I know. Congratulations, Y/N —you just broadcasted to everyone how totally fine you’re not.

I sigh, staring at my reflection in the dark window. “It’s alright, Y/N,” I mutter. “You’re the normal one for not jumping into someone’s arms right after a ten-year relationship.”

I smile, even though it hurts. At least my friends are still here —real or fake, I’ll take the company. Mei could be out skiing like the adrenaline junkie she is, but she chose to stay. Shoko’s here too, nursing her cigarette like a war veteran. It’s nearly 6 p.m. now, and the sky’s starting to bruise purple.

“Let’s start prepping for the bonfire later,” Shoko says, pulling her hair back. “And let those man-children clean up for once.”

“Finally, a plan I can get behind,” I say, grabbing the drinks. The kitchen smells like smoke and spice; the kind of cozy that makes you forget how much your chest hurts.

We fall into rhythm — cutting, stirring, teasing each other — until I realize it’s quiet. Too quiet.

I turn around, and both Shoko and Mei are gone.

“Uh, hello?” I frown. “You guys better not be leaving me with dish duty again.”

When they walk back in, they’re grinning like they just found out state secrets.

“Why are you two smiling like that?” I ask slowly, raising a brow.

“Y/N,” Shoko starts, exhaling like she’s about to drop a bomb, “I’ve known you too long to just sit here while that jackass pretends you don’t exist.”

I laugh, half amused, half exhausted. “You’ve known him just as long as I have.”

“Yeah,” Mei cuts in, tossing her hair. “And that’s exactly why I can confirm —men are idiots.”

I snort. “You’re not wrong.”

Then Shoko’s lips curl into that evil little grin she gets before chaos. “By the way… Yuki’s coming later.”

I nearly drop the knife I’m holding. “What?! Finally! She never makes it to these things!”

Mei winks. “Oh, don’t worry. She’s got a little treat for you.”

I narrow my eyes. “Treat?”

Shoko hums. “Mmm… actually, treats.”

That makes me pause. “Plural? Should I be scared?”

Mei just smirks. “Depends. On how ready you are to make Gojo lose his mind.”

I blink. “What the hell are you two planning?”

Shoko shrugs innocently, opening another beer. “Nothing illegal. Just… entertaining.”

They share that look again —the one that says this night’s about to get interesting.

I try to brush it off, but my pulse quickens anyway. Maybe it’s the anticipation, maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the idea of finally getting the upper hand.

Either way, for the first time all weekend, I actually can’t wait for the night to start.

The night was supposed to be chill. Just us, the snow, the view, and a makeshift bonfire on the balcony that looked one strong gust away from falling off.

Marshmallows and drinks in hand, everyone’s laughing, voices bouncing off the cold air.

Yuji, of course, takes the spotlight. “Gosh, I peed once during my birthday at the pool!”

The table erupts in disgust.

“Are you serious!?” Suguru’s half-laughing, half-horrified. “Dude, I swallowed some of that water!”

“Ew, you what—” Mei chokes on her drink.

We’re dying laughing until—

“That’s so silly!” Utahime pipes up, that fake little giggle riding on her words. “I think I was invited to that party… kinda remember that happening!”

And there she is. Sitting. On. His. Lap.

My brain short-circuits.

Nope. Nope nope nope. I will not look their way. I will not lose my cool in front of all these people.

“Silly girl,” Satoru says, voice dripping with amusement —and something too close to flirtation.

My fingers tighten around my drink. Silly girl? Silly girl? Okay, clown him later, cry later.

Thankfully, Nanami decides to save the night with dry sarcasm. “You’ve always been disgusting, Yuji. And completely opposite of your older brother.”

“Man, don’t bring Choso into this,” Yuji groans as everyone bursts into teasing.

Trying to sound normal, I blurt out at the worst time, “That older brother—was that Choso or—”

Before I can even finish, Shoko smirks, eyes glinting. “Seems like you remember, Y/N. What was it you called Choso again?”

My stomach drops. “Don’t you dare—”

“Ohhh, I remember!” Suguru adds, leaning forward with that infuriating grin. “That ‘hot long-haired man I’d let disrespect me,’ right?”

The group loses it.

I gasp, face burning. “Hey! I did not—!”

From the corner of my eye, I see it.

Satoru shifts slightly —moving away from Utahime. His hand brushes her knee off casually, pretending like nothing happened.

Yeah. Pretend all you want, Gojo. My heart’s still doing gymnastics.

Before I can fully recover, the doorbell rings.

“Are we expecting more people?” Satoru asks, tone suddenly serious, his hand halfway to his drink.

Mei raises a brow. “Oh, right. Forgot to say… Yuki’s coming.”

The room explodes in cheers.

“YESSSS! SOME FUNNY YUKI-SENPAI ENERGY!” Yuji screams, nearly spilling his drink.

I laugh, actually relieved. Finally! Someone to break the awkward tension.

Or so I thought.

Footsteps echo closer —two sets, heavy boots on wood.

Shoko and Suguru return, both trying (and failing) to keep straight faces.

Utahime slides off Satoru’s lap, brushing her hair back. “Oh? Who are they?” she asks sweetly, clearly confused.

And then —

I see them.

My entire body freezes.

Oh.

My.

God.

Standing right there in the doorway, snow still clinging to their coats—

Choso. My one-night stand.

And Sukuna. My ex fuck buddy.

My jaw drops.

Yuki’s standing behind them, smug as hell. “Surprise,” she says, winking. “Told you I brought treats.”

Shoko snorts into her drink. Mei’s grinning like she just paid for front-row drama. Suguru mutters, “Oh, this is about to be good.”

Meanwhile, I’m frozen, brain screaming.

Gojo x Reader “Bittersweet”

Trapped in a cabin with her ex and his new flame, Y/N endures a painful 5 days filled with fake smiles, sharp words, and lingering eye contact that reignites old wounds.

Warning: This story contains emotional tension, jealousy, toxic relationships, subtle manipulation, and heavy angst

Part 1

Y/N’s POV

Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

Four hours on the bullet train, two crying babies, one broken headphone, and a guy eating tuna without shame—just to end up trapped in a cabin… with my ex.

For five days.

Kill me.

“Y/N! Finally, you’re here!” Mei cheers, way too cheerful for someone who just signed my death sentence. “Now I can finally have a little fun!”

Her words blur into static the moment I see him. Satoru freakin’ Gojo. My stomach twists—no, somersaults. The last time I saw him, I threw up in the middle of a grocery store. God, am I gonna add “cabin puke” to my list of humiliations now?

“Earth to Y/N?” Suguru waves a hand in front of my face, and I jerk back like I’ve been caught staring. Which I have. Fantastic.

“Y-yeah? Sorry, I think the train fried my brain,” I mumble, forcing a weak laugh.

Suguru grabs my luggage effortlessly, because of course he does. “Almost thought you were gonna pass out—”

“Didn’t,” I cut Mei off before she can say something embarrassing. She always does. “Anyway, where am I crashing?”

Mei hums innocently, which is always a bad sign. “Well, definitely not with Satoru. You two broke up, right?”

Before I can even fake a laugh, Yuji’s loud-ass voice cuts through the room like a sword. “Wait—you and Gojo broke up?!”

Silence. Actual, coffin-level silence.

Everyone freezes.

Suguru sighs, muttering under his breath, “Yuji, why don’t you, I don’t know, go outside and cut some wood or something?”

“Wood? It’s snowing,” Yuji protests.

“Exactly,” Suguru deadpans.

Meanwhile, my brain’s doing Olympic-level gymnastics trying not to look at Satoru. He’s sitting on the couch, AirPods in, pretending the world doesn’t exist. Probably doesn’t even notice I’m here. Or maybe he does—and just doesn’t care.

God, his stupid white hair still looks unfairly good. His posture’s the same too, all lazy confidence and long legs. I hate that I remember what those legs feel like wrapped around—

Nope. Nope. NOPE.

I swallow hard and plaster on a smile. “Sooo… where’s the bathroom? I might, uh… throw up again.”

Because yeah—apparently that’s our new love language.

Now I’m in the girls’ room — if you can even call them my “friends.”

Shoko and Mei. My dear, loyal, backstabbing, fake friends who didn’t even think to warn me that Satoru freaking Gojo would be here.

I mean, yeah, we’re all in the same friend group — but Satoru and Suguru? They’re not the type to join long weekend trips. Yet here they are.

Shoko clears her throat. “We can explain.”

I let out the loudest sigh my lungs can manage. “Really? No heads-up? Not even a tiny warning text like, ‘Hey, by the way, your ex will be haunting the cabin’? Nothing?”

I plop down on the bed dramatically. The mattress groans, just like my patience. Three months since the breakup and I’ve moved absolutely nowhere from that restaurant. Mentally, I’m still sitting there, watching him walk away.

Mei crosses her arms. “We did call you, you just never picked up.”

“I didn’t think I needed to screen for Gojo Satoru appearances, Mei,” I mutter, pressing my palms over my face.

Then Shoko hesitates. “Well… there’s more you need to know.”

Oh god. My heart instantly starts doing push-ups. “More? What, you found out he brought a girlfriend? He got married? He’s secretly a cult leader?”

They share that look — the one people do right before ruining your week.

“You see… Utahime’s here,” Mei says carefully.

I blink. “Our old classmate?”

“Yeah.”

“What about her? You guys invited her? Wait—no way. Is she dating Suguru?!” My mood spikes instantly. “Oh my god, finally! My boy’s getting some!”

Mei and Shoko both stare at me like I just said something stupid. Which, apparently, I did.

“Not exactly…” Mei murmurs.

I frown. “Then what—?”

“She was invited by Satoru,” Shoko says quietly. “She’s… staying in his room. She’s, uh, showering there right now.”

My breath catches. My stomach clenches so hard it hurts. I can actually feel my ears ringing.

“Oh. Haha. Well, good for him,” I say with a shaky laugh. “Yeah, it’s… nice. He deserves to move on, right?”

My voice is trembling so bad I could swear the walls can hear it. Shoko reaches over and places her hand over mine, firm and warm.

“He’s a shitty ex, Y/N. And honestly, a shitty friend,” she says. “Who invites both his ex and his new fling to the same gathering?”

“Three-month rule, duh,” I mumble with a brittle smile. “It’s all part of the breakup playbook.”

They keep talking — calling Utahime annoying, saying she must’ve begged for Satoru’s attention, that she’s trying to sneak her way into our group — but their words start to blur.

Because the truth is, what’s there to talk about?

She’s his present.

And I’m just the inconvenient past sitting two doors away, pretending I’m fine.

Or so I thought.

Three times.

That’s how many times I’ve accidentally made eye contact with him tonight — and every single time, my heart dropped like it was trying to escape.

We’re all sitting around the long wooden table, plates clinking, laughter bouncing off the cabin walls. It should feel warm, loud, chaotic — and it does. Except for the part where Utahime is practically sitting on Satoru’s lap.

“You guys were such idiots back in high school,” she says with a fond laugh, brushing a strand of hair from her face — his hand helping her tuck it behind her ear.

Everyone’s laughing. Yuji’s choking on his drink, Nobara’s teasing Megumi, Suguru’s sipping sake with that unreadable calm expression — and me?

I’m just staring at my beer bottle, scrolling aimlessly through my phone like it can save me from this dinner table nightmare.

“Y/N,” Suguru calls, voice cutting through the chatter.

I look up — and there it is again.

Eye contact number four.

Satoru’s gaze, steady and sharp, just for a second before he looks away like nothing happened. My throat tightens.

Before I can even ask Suguru what he said, Utahime’s voice cuts in, all sugar-coated poison.

“Y/N! I just remembered — you and ‘Toru’ dated back then, right?” she says with a sweet smile. “You two were sooo cute together.”

The air goes thick in an instant.

Everyone freezes except for the faint crackle of the fireplace.

It’s one of those backhanded comments — the kind that sounds sweet but stings like hell.

I force a smile. “Yeah. It was fine.”

Fine — the most useless word in the world.

Satoru clears his throat, obviously trying to redirect. “Utahime, didn’t you say something about your new job at—”

But she’s not done.

“Oh! Right, but I heard…” she starts, tone light but loaded.

The table tenses again. Even Yuji’s stopped chewing. This girl really wants smoke — and unfortunately, I’m too busy pretending not to care to light it.

Mei leans forward, lips curving into a smug little smile. “You know, Utahime, you’re kind of bad at communicating, huh? That’s something you and Satoru have in common.”

A few low chuckles ripple around the table. Suguru even hides a laugh behind his glass.

Utahime lets out a stiff little laugh of her own. “Guess so,” she says, finally shutting up.

Relief floods through me like a quiet wave.

But then I feel it again — that heavy gaze from across the table.

Satoru’s looking at me, his expression unreadable, lips parted like he wants to say something.

I look away first.

Always do.